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^ ^ . A\^i/A ° A V' 






KEEPING 
HIS COURSE 


BY 

RALPH HENRY BARBOUR 

AUTHOR OF 

“HITTING THE LINE,” “WINNING HIS GAME,” 
“RIVALS FOR THE TEAM,” ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED BY 

WALT LOUDERBACK 


D. APPLETON & COMPANY 

NEW YORK LONDON 

1918 





Copyright, 1918, by 
D. Appleton and Company 

Copyright, 1916, by 

The Commercial Advertiser Association 


WAR 15 1918 


(l 


Printed in the United States of America 


©Cl. A 4 9 2 5 9 ? ' 





CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PACE 

I. Toby Resents an Insult i 

II. The Turnover 13 

III. Arnold Pays His Debts 26 

IV. Friends Afloat 36 

V. Shots in the Dark 49 

VI. Pursuit and Capture 62 

VII. The Stolen Launch 75 

VIII. The Hidden Name 88 

IX. ‘Three Hundred Dollars Reward!” ioo 

X. Toby Blocks the Plate 112 

XI. Toby Makes Up His Mind .... 125 

XII. “T. Tucker, Prop.” 143 

XIII. Trick for Trick 155 

XIV. Toby Is Downhearted 170 

XV. Phebe Christens the Knockabout . 181 

XVI. Lost in the Fog 193 

XVII. The Lighted Window 206 

XVIII. Mr. Tucker Consents 220 

XIX. Toby Accepts a Challenge .... 230 

XX. A Close Call 243 

XXI. The Distress Signal 261 

XXII. Into Port 273 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Hold on ! Isn’t that a sort of a light over there?” 

Frontispiece 
Facing Page 

“We’ve gained like anything, Am!” 66 

Toby pegged hard to Tim 122 

He consumed a large piece of apple pie 254 



KEEPING HIS COURSE 

CHAPTER I 

TOBY RESENTS AN INSULT 

A BOY with light blue eyes that just about 
matched the slightly hazy June sky sat on 
the float below the town landing at Green- 
haven, L. I., and stared thoughtfully across har- 
bor and bay to where, two miles northward, the 
village of Johnstown stretched along the farther 
shore. He had a round, healthy, and deeply 
tanned face of which a short nose, many freckles, 
the aforementioned blue eyes, and a somewhat 
square chin were prominent features. There was, 
of course, a mouth, as well, and that, too, was 
prominent just now, for it was puckered with the 
little tune that the boy was softly whistling. Un- 
der a sailor’s hat of white canvas the hair was 


I 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


brown, but a brown that only escaped being red 
by the narrowest of margins. That fact was a 
sore subject with Toby Tucker. 

Perhaps had his hair been really and truly red, 
beyond all question, he wouldn’t have minded 
being called “Ginger” and “Carrots” and “Sor- 
rel Top” and “Red Head” and all the other 
names frequently — but usually from a safe dis- 
tance — bestowed on him. Perhaps it was the in- 
justice of it that hurt. That as may be, a hint 
that Toby’s hair was red — or even reddish — was 
equivalent to a declaration of war, and entailed 
similar consequences ! He wore, besides the duck 
hat, a sailor’s jacket of like material, a pair of 
khaki trousers, and brown canvas “sneakers.” 
You wouldn’t have called him “smartly dressed,” 
perhaps, but what he wore seemed to suit him 
and was, at least, clean. 

From where he sat, perched on a box labeled 
“Sunny South Brand Tomatoes,” he had a clear 
view of Spanish Harbor, and beyond its mouth a 
wide expanse of Great Peconic Bay. Beyond that 
again lay the green fields and low, wooded hills of 
the north shore. A coal barge, which had lately 
discharged her cargo at Rollinson’s Wharf, was 
anchored in the middle channel, awaiting a tug. 
Nearer at hand were a half-dozen pleasure sail- 
2 


TOBY RESENTS AN INSULT 


boats, a blunt-nosed, drab-hued fishing sloop, and 
a black launch, all tugging gently at their moor- 
ings on the incoming tide. On either side of the 
float a little company of rowboats and small 
launches rubbed sides. Behind him, the rusted 
iron wheels of the gangplank, leading to the 
wharf above, creaked as the float swung to the 
rising water. 

Toby had the landing to himself. The box on 
which he sat held provisions for the yacht Pen- 
guin, and some time around nine o’clock a tender 
was to call for them. Toby, when school wasn’t 
in session, did such odd jobs as fell to his hand, 
and just now, it being Saturday morning, he was 
earning a whole quarter of a dollar from Perkins 
& Howe, the grocers. Having propelled the box 
to the gangplank in a wheelbarrow, and slid it 
down to its present resting place, all that remained 
was to continue sitting right there until some 
one claimed it, a task which suited Toby per- 
fectly. 

Not that he was especially lazy or disliked 
work, for he wasn’t and didn’t, but it was pleas- 
antly hot today, and Toby was in a contemplative 
frame of mind, and sitting there in the sun, with 
the water lapping beneath him and the good smell 
of the sea in his nostrils, was very satisfying to 
3 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


Toby’s soul. The visions he saw with those blue 
eyes of his, squinted a bit because of the glare on 
the dancing water, must have been enthralling, 
since he didn’t observe the white launch that en- 
tered the harbor until it was almost up to the 
landing. 

Then the chug-chug of her exhaust caught his 
attention, and he shaded his eyes and observed 
her intently. She wasn’t very big, perhaps eight- 
een feet over all, and she had a spray hood in 
lieu of cabin. At present the hood was down, 
and Toby could see much mahogany and polished 
brass as the launch sped, head on, for the landing. 
There was only one passenger in sight, a boy of 
about Toby’s age, who stood at the wheel in the 
bow. Toby, who knew most of the craft that en- 
tered Spanish Harbor, failed to recognize this 
one. Nor did the name, in gilt letters on her nose, 
make him any wiser. 

“ Frolic ” muttered Toby. “Never heard of 
her before. Must be a new one. Wonder where 
that lubber thinks he’s going to? He’ll be on the 
float in a minute if he doesn’t look out!” 

When about forty feet away the boy in the 
launch threw the clutch into reverse. There was 
much churning of green water under the stem, 
and the boat’s speed lessened, but what with the 
4 


TOBY RESENTS AN INSULT 


impetus given her and the incoming tide she 
seemed bound to either land high and dry on the 
float or to considerably damage her immaculate 
white and gold bow. The skipper dropped the 
wheel and looked excitedly around for a boat- 
hook. 

“Sheer off, you idiot!” cried Toby, nimbly 
scrambling out of the way. “Put your wheel 
over!” 

“Grab her!” responded the boy in the launch. 
“Fend her off!” 

Toby grunted. Then there was a crash, the 
float bobbed and shivered, and the white launch, 
finding further progress barred, rebounded from 
the obstacle in her path, and, leaving much fresh 
white paint on the canvas fender, churned merrily 
backward. Simultaneously two boys, one on the 
float and one in the launch, scrambled to their feet 
again and broke into speech. 

“Hey, you boob !” yelled Toby. “Look where 
you’re going! You’ll have her stern into that 
dory in a minute. Shut off your engine !” 

“Why didn’t you grab her?” demanded the boy 
in the launch angrily. “Couldn’t you see she was 
going to hit?” 

“I’d look nice trying to stop her, wouldn’t I ?” 
countered Toby contemptuously. “Why don’t 
5 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


you learn to run a launch before you come around 
here destroying property? What were you try- 
in to do, anyhow? Climb the gangplank in 
her?” 

“I couldn’t come in any way but straight on, 
could I ? Look at all those boats along the sides ! 
Why don’t they give a fellow a chance to get up 
here?” 

“Well, you’re not expected to make your land- 
ing at sixty miles an hour, you silly lubber. Here, 
hold that out and I’ll pull you in.” 

Somewhat disgruntled, the amateur navigator 
proffered the end of the boat-hook and in a jiffy 
the Frolic was alongside. Toby returned to his 
seat on the box and watched the other make fast. 
Conscious of Toby’s ironical regard, the skipper 
of the Frolic was flustered and awkward, and 
twice got the line tangled around his feet. When 
he stood up from his task, he was red of face and 
out of temper. “That suit your highness?” he 
inquired. 

Toby grinned. “Well, it ain’t customary in 
these parts to make a boat fast with a square knot, 
but I guess she’ll hold.” 

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” sneered 
the other. 

Toby made no reply to that, merely smiling in a 

6 


TOBY RESENTS AN INSULT 


most exasperating manner. Presently, when the 
skipper of the Frolic had laboriously shoved the 
launch out of the way, he looked questioningly 
about the landing. 

“Where can I get gasoline?” he asked more 
affably. 

Toby was maddeningly deliberate. “Gasoline?” 

“Yes.” 

“How much do you want?” 

“What’s that got to do* with it?” demanded the 
other impatiently. 

“Well, if you want as much as ten gallons it 
would pay me to get it for you.” 

“I tan get it myself if you’ll tell me where they 
keep it. Don’t they have it here at this landing? 
Isn’t this the town landing?” 

“Yes.” Toby looked around the float. “I 
don’t see any gasoline, though; do you?” 

“Well, then, where ” 

“You can get all you want at Tucker’s wharf 
over there.” 

The other followed the direction of Toby’s 
pointing finger. “At the boat yard you mean?” 

Toby nodded. “Yes ; just chug over there to the 
float where you see the red tank.” 

“Why couldn’t you tell me that before I tied 
up?” 


7 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“You didn’t ask me.” The other grunted and 
set about casting off again, during which operation 
Toby studied him speculatively. 

He saw a boy of perhaps a year his senior, and 
Toby was fifteen, fairly tall, slim, and undeniably 
good looking. He had brown eyes and brown 
hair, the latter slicked back in a way that was 
strange and awe-inspiring to the observer, and his 
face, with its straight nose and somewhat pointed 
chin, lacked the healthy coat of tan that Toby’s 
possessed. Yes, he was a good looking chap, 
Toby decided, but a most unpleasant and unlikable 
one. That fact, however, was not going to pre- 
vent Toby from making a sale, and when the vis- 
itor had sprung aboard, Toby glanced doubtfully 
at his box of groceries, swept the harbor without 
seeing anything that looked like the tender from 
the Penguin , and jumped lightly to the Frolic . 

“I’ll go over with you and get it,” he said. 
“Where’s your boat hook? All right. Start her 
up!” 

The other viewed him doubtfully. “What have 
you got to do with it?” he asked, suspiciously. 

“That’s my father’s wharf, and he’s busy up in 
the shed. If it’s gasoline you want, I’m your man. 
Take her across easy now.” 

The engine started at half-speed, and the Frolic 

8 


TOBY RESENTS AN INSULT 


slid quietly away from the town landing, past the 
end of the coal wharf, and across the Cove to the 
boat-yard landing. This time the launch’s oper- 
ator performed his task more creditably and 
nestled up against the small float with no more 
damage to her paint. While he made her fast 
Toby sprang out and ran up the gangplank to the 
big red tank at the end of the wharf. 

“How much do you want?” he called back. 

“About nine, I guess. My tank holds ten, and 
I think there’s almost a gallon in* it.” 

“All right.” Toby held a five-gallon can under 
the faucet and when it was full climbed down 
again and swung it to the bow of the launch. 
“Look out for the paint,” requested the other boy. 
“Wait till I get the funnel. Go ahead now.” 

Toby poured the contents of the can into the 
tank and returned again to the wharf. When the 
final four gallons had been added he set the can 
back on the float and observed: “One ninety- 
eight, please.” 

“One ninety Say, how much do you charge 

a gallon?” exclaimed the other, incredulously. 

“Twenty-two cents. This is the best there is.” 

“Twenty-two! Why, I only paid twenty in 
New York the other day!” 

“You were lucky,” drawled Toby. “It’s twen- 

9 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

ty-two here. What you got was low-grade, I 
guess.*’ 

“Well, I don’t intend to pay any twenty-two 
cents. I’ll pay just what I paid in New York. 
Here’s two dollars, and I want twenty cents 
change.” 

Toby, hands in pockets, paid no heed to the 
proffered bill. Instead he looked speculatively at 
the little round hole through which the gasoline 
had disappeared. “It’s going to be hard to get 
it out of there,” he mused. “Maybe we can do it 
with a pump, though.” 

“Get it out? What for? Look here, twenty 
cents is enough and ” 

“Not when the price is twenty-two,” replied 
Toby decidedly. “We charge the same as every- 
where else here. You’d have paid twenty-two at 
the town landing just the same.” 

“At the town landing! You said they didn’t 
keep it there !” 

“No, sir, I didn’t. I said I didn’t see any.” 
Toby grinned. “And I didn’t, either. You can’t, 
from the float.” 

“You’re a smart guy, aren’t you?” said the 
other angrily. “You make me come away over 
here and then try to hold me up ! Well, you can’t 
do it! You fork over twenty cents and you’ll get 
io 


TOBY RESENTS AN INSULT 


this two dollars, you — you red-headed cheat!” 

Toby’s grin faded instantly. “What did you 
call me?” he asked very quietly after a moment’s 
silence. 

“You heard it I Now you find twenty cents 
and ” 

They were standing on the canvas-covered deck 
at the bow, a precarious place at the best, with 
the launch rolling a bit, and not at all the sort of 
place the Frolic’s skipper would have selected for 
battle had he been allowed a choice. But he 
wasn’t, for his naughty remarks were rudely inter- 
rupted, rudely and unexpectedly ! With something 
between a grunt and a snarl, Toby threw himself 
upon him. 

“Take it back!” he panted. “ ’Tain’t red, and 
you know it !” 

The older boy gave way before the sudden as- 
sault, tried to wrest his arms free from Toby’s 
grip, failed at that, and, bringing his greater 
weight to bear, forced the other back across the 
tiny decking. They struggled and panted, only the 
rubber soles they wore keeping them from going 
overboard. 

“Let me alone, you silly ass !” grunted the older 
youth. “We’ll both be in the water in a 
second.” 


II 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Take it back, then!” panted Toby. “ ’Tain’t 
red, is it?” 

“Yes, it is! It’s red as — as fire!” He 
wrenched an arm free and struck out angrily. The 
blow missed, and Toby caught at the arm, trying 
now to trip his opponent up. But the law of grav- 
ity cannot be trifled with forever, and what was 
bound to happen sooner or later happened right 
then. Toby’s leg worked behind the other; he 
bore back and — over they went, still tightly 
clasped together, with a splash that awoke the 
echoes of the Cove ! 


CHAPTER II 


THE Turnover 

T HEY came up separately, Toby first. 

Fortunately for the boy of the launch, a 
good eight feet separated him from 
Toby at the moment of his emergence, for Toby 
was by no means satisfied and proved it by an 
earnest endeavor to reach his adversary before 
the latter could splash and flounder his way 
around the bow of the launch and throw himself, 
breathless and half-drowned, across the edge of ^ 
the float. From that position he squirmed not an 
instant too soon and half-leaped and half-fell 
across the gunwale of the launch and seized the 
boat-hook. 

“Now, you wild idiot,” he gasped, “you keep 
away from me!” 

Toby viewed the situation, pulled himself to 
the float and grinned. “All right,” he said. “You 
got the best of it now, but it ain’t red, and I’ll 
make you say so sooner or later. Now you pay 
what you owe me.” 

An expression of blank dismay came ro the 

13 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


other’s face, and he gazed anxiously about deck 
and water. “I dropped* it! You' made me do it, 
too ! Now you find it !” 

Toby shrugged. “I guess it’s at the bottom 
now. Let me look.” 

“You stay where you are,” commanded the 
other, threatening again with his weapon. 

“I won’t do anything — honest,” assured Toby. 
“Not now, that is. Put that thing down and let 
me see if I can see your money.” 

In a moment the two were leaning over the 
side of the launch and peering into the water. 
But the surface was ruffled and it was impossible 
to see much below it. “When did you let go 
of it?” inquired Toby. 

“How do I know? When you grabbed me, I 
suppose.” 

“Haven’t you got any more money with you?” 

“No, I haven’t, and if I had I wouldn’t give it 
to you,” was the ungracious reply. Toby consid- 
ered. Finally: 

“Well, I’ll take half the blame,” he decided, 
“but that’s all. You pay me ninety-nine cents and 
we’ll call it square.” 

“That’s twenty-two cents a gallon, though.” 

Toby nodded. “Sure. That’s the price.” 

After a moment’s consideration the other con- 
14 


THE TURNOVER 

sentecL “But you’ll have to trust me for it,” he 
said. “That two dollars was all I had.” 

“All right. What’s your name?” 

“Deering, Arnold Deering. I live on the 
Head.” 

“Spanish Head? Whose house have you got?” 

“We live in our own house. It’s called ‘Cedar- 
croft,’ and it’s the big one right at the end ” 

“Oh, the new one that was built last winter? 
All right. Arnold Deering, eh? I’ll remember. 
You’re the fellow who owes me ninety-nine cents 
— and an apology.” 

“You’ll get the ninety-nine cents, all right; I’ll 
bring it over tomorrow. But you’ll have to 
whistle for any apology from me !” 

“I can whistle,” answered Toby undisturbedly. 

“You’ll have to!” Arnold was having difficulty 
with the knot he had tied. Toby looked on 
quizzically. 

“Those square knots ” he began. 

“Oh, shut up!” Arnold finally cast loose and 
climbed aboard. “You get off now.” 

“I was thinking maybe you’d drop me at the 
town landing,” replied Toby calmly. “I’ve got a 
box of groceries over there.” 

“Well, all right, but you’ll have to jump. I 
don’t intend to stop for you.” 

15 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Sure. Reverse her when you start and back 
out. Put your wheel hard over and ” 

“Say,” inquired Arnold belligerently, “who’s 
running this thing?” 

“You are. How long have you had her?” 

“About a week.” 

“She’s a nice boat. If I was you I’d learn to 
run her. Don’t do a boat any good to ram her into 
things.” 

“Is that so? I’ll bet I can run a launch as well 
as you can, you ” 

“Careful!” warned Toby. 

“You fresh kid!” 

“All right. Look out for the coal wharf. Mr. 
Rollinson would be awfully mad if you carried 
away the end of it! Just slow her up and I’ll 
jump for it.” 

“I hope you fall in,” said the other vindictively. 
Toby laughed. 

“I wouldn’t be much wetter if I did! All right 
now. Thanks !” He made a flying leap over the 
four feet of water between launch and float and 
landed safely. Simultaneously Arnold twirled the 
wheel and the Frolic pointed her nose down the 
harbor and chugged indignantly away. Not, how- 
ever, until Toby had sent a gentle reminder float- 
ing after her. 


1 6 


THE TURNOVER 


“ Frolic , ahoy!” he shouted. 

Arnold turned an inquiring head. 

“Don’t forget that ninety-nine cents 1 And re- 
member I’m still whistling !” 

There was no reply, and Toby, seating himself 
on the box, chuckled wickedly and resumed his 
onerous task. 

Toby’s father wasn’t nearly as amused as Toby 
had expected him to be when he was told the inci- 
dent of the last two-dollar bill at dinner that day. 
Mr. Tucker was a tall, stooped man of forty-odd 
years, with faded blue eyes in a weather-tanned 
face. The Tuckers had been boat builders for 
three generations, and Mr. Aaron Tucker’s skin 
seemed to have borrowed the hue from the ma- 
hogany that for so many years past had been 
sawed and shaped and planed and sandpapered in 
the big shed across the harbor road. In the old 
days Tucker’s Boat Yard had turned out good- 
sized fishing and pleasure craft, but business had 
fallen away in the last dozen years, and now small 
launches and sloops and rowboats constituted the 
output. And, at that, business was far from brisk. 
Perhaps Mr. Tucker had the fact in mind when 
he inquired dryly who was to pay for that other 
four and a half gallons of gasoline. 

“I guess I’ll have to,” said Toby, ruefully. 

17 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

“I calculate you will,” agreed his father. 

“At the wholesale price, though,” added the 
boy hastily; and Mr. Tucker’s eyes twinkled as he 
nodded. 

But if the story won small appreciation from 
his father, there was one, at least, at the dinner 
table who enjoyed it, and that was Toby’s sister, 
Phebe. Phebe Tucker was thirteen, a slim, pretty 
girl with hair that Toby called “yaller” and 
Phebe’s mother termed golden. She had very 
bright, brown eyes under long lashes and a skin 
that, even though nearly as brown as Toby’s, was 
clear and smooth. There were no other children 
and so Toby and his sister had always been very 
close companions, a fact which probably accounted 
for a somewhat boyish quality in Phebe. She 
could sail a boat nearly as well as Toby, catch quite 
as many fish, was no mean hand at the oars, and 
could perform almost as many “stunts” in the 
water as he could. She asked no favors and was 
always ready for adventure — a jolly, companion- 
able girl with a wealth of spirits, and good nature 
and good health. 

Neither of the children resembled their mother 
in looks, for Mrs. Tucker was small, with dark 
hair and eyes, and comfortably stout. Her chil- 
dren called her “roly-poly,” a descriptive term 
18 


THE TURNOVER 


which Mrs. Tucker pretended to resent. For the 
rest, she was a quiet, kind-hearted little woman, 
who worshiped her big husband and her chil- 
dren, and whose main ambition was to see that 
they were happy. 

Saturday afternoon was always a holiday for 
Toby and Phebe, and after dinner was over they 
went out to the front steps and pondered what 
to do. The cottage was a neat, white-clapboarded 
little house, perched on a slope above the harbor 
road. From the gate a flight of six wooden steps 
led to a tiny bricked walk which ran the length 
of the cottage. 

A wistaria vine, venerable with age, was in 
full bloom at one side of the doorway, while be- 
tween house and walk narrow beds held a wealth 
of old-fashioned flowers. From the steps one 
looked across the cobbled, winding harbor road, 
tree-shaded in summer, to the boat yard with its 
weather-beaten shed and its old stone wharf, and 
beyond that to the little harbor and to the nes- 
tling village houses on the other side. 

“We might go out in the launch,” sug- 
gested Toby, “only I’d have to fix the wiring 
first.” 

“Would it take long?” asked his sister. 

“I guess not. I couldn’t find the trouble yester- 
19 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


day, though. We might take a run around to 
Shinnecock if I can get her started.” 

“Let’s,” said Phebe. “It’s too beautiful a day 
to stay ashore. You go ahead and see if you 
can’t fix it and I’ll be right along.” 

So Toby crossed the road, passed around the 
further side of the big shed, from which came 
the tap-tap of hammers and the buzz of the band- 
saw, climbed down a slippery ladder and dropped 
into the launch. 

Toby had made most of that boat himself. It 
wasn’t as grand as the Frolic and it boasted little 
bright work and no gilt. But, in spite of its name, 
it was at once safe, roomy and fast. Its name 
— you had to look on the stern to find it — was 
Turnover . In lowering the engine into it the sum- 
mer before Toby’s assistant had lost control of 
the rope, with the result that the engine, at that 
instant poised over the gunwale, had descended 
very hurriedly. The boat, probably resenting the 
indignity, had promptly turned its keel to the sky 
and dumped the engine to the bottom of the slip 
in six feet of water. The boat hadn’t actually 
turned over, for having got rid of the engine and 
shipped a good deal of water it had righted itself 
very nicely, but Toby had dubbed it Turnover 
there and then. 


20 


THE TURNOVER 

The Turnover was sixteen feet long, with a 
four-and-a-half-foot beam, had a two-cylinder 
engine — purchased second-hand but really as good 
as new — capable of sending the launch through the 
water at a good twelve-mile gait, and was painted 
a rather depressing shade of gray. Toby favored 
that color not so much for its attractiveness as 
because it didn’t show dirt, and it must be owned 
that the Turnover was seldom immaculate, inside 
or out. But she suited Toby down to the ground 
— or perhaps I should say down to the water — 
and I doubt if any one else could have made her 
go as he did. The. Turnover had her own eccen- 
tricities and it was necessary to humor her. 

Toby began operations by pushing his duck hat 
to the back of his head and reflectively scratching 
the front of it, a trick caught from his father. 
Then, having decided on a plan of action, he set to 
work. Before he had discovered the trouble and 
remedied it, with- the aid of an odd bit of insulated 
copper wire pulled from a locker, Phebe was 
swinging her feet from the edge of the wharf and 
watching. Experience had taught her the advisa- 
bility of keeping out of the way until the work 
was done. At last, wiping a perspiring face in a 
bunch of greasy waste, Toby threw the switch on 
and turned the fly-wheel over. 

21 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


A heartening chug-chug rewarded him, and, 
tossing the tools back in the locker, he unscrewed 
the cap of the gasoline tank, plunged a stick into 
it, examined the result, did some mjental calcula- 
tion, and at last declared himself ready to start. 
Phebe lowered herself nimbly down the ladder 
and seated herself at the wheel while Toby cast off 
the lines from the bow aad stern. The Turnover 
backed out of the little slip rather noisily, swung 
her pert nose- toward the harbor mouth, and pres- 
ently was sliding past the moored craft at a fine 
clip. Once around the point the breeze, met them 
and the Turnover began to nod to the quartering 
waves. Toby slathered oil here and there, gave 
her more gas, and seated himself across from his 
sister. 

“She’s going fine,” he said. “I guess we could 
make Robins Island if we wanted to.” 

“That’s too far, Toby. I’d rather go to Shinne- 
cock.” 

“All right. It’s going to be dandy after we 
get around the Head. There’s a peach of a swell, 
isn’t there?” 

The launch dipped her way past Nobbs Island, 
with its squatty lighthouse, and Phebe turned the 
launch toward the Head. 

“There’s the place that fellow lives,” said Toby, 
22 


THE TURNOVER 

nodding at a fine new stone-and-shingle house on 
the point. “The fellow I had the scrap with, I 
mean.” 

“It’s a lovely house,” said Phebe. “I suppose 
they have lots of money, don’t you?” 

“Slathers, I guess. He’s a pill. Can’t run that 
launch any more than Mr. Murphy can.” (Mr. 
Murphy was Phebe’s parrot, and, while he had 
been through some nautical experiences, he was 
naturally no navigator!) “He didn’t do a thing 
to her paint when he bumped into the float.” Toby 
chuckled. “And wasn’t he peeved with me !” 

“I guess you were horribly superior and nasty,” 
said Phebe. “You can be, you know.” 

“Oh, well, I hate fellows to put on a lot of 
airs just because their folks have money,” grum- 
bled Toby. “The way he talked to me, you’d 
have thought I was a hunk of dirt.” 

“Was he- nice looking?” asked Phebe. 

“Oh, I suppose you’d call him that. Sort of 
a pretty boy, with his hair all slicked back like 
it was varnished. It didn’t look so fine when he 
came out of the water, though !” 

“That was a horrid thing to do, Toby.” But 
she smiled as she said it. 

“I didn’t do it, sis. He stumbled — sort of — 
and went over backwards, and I went with him. 
23 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


You ought to have seen the way he scrambled out 
of there when he saw me coming after him ! Say, 
we might run in to their landing and collect that 
ninety-nine cents, eh?” 

“Indeed, we aren’t going to do anything of the 
kind!” replied Phebe severely, and Toby laughed. 

“I was just fooling. He’ll pay it, all right. 
And he’ll apologize for calling me red-headed, 
too.” 

“I don’t see why you mind that so much,” said 
Phebe. “I think red hair is lovely. I wish mine 
was red, like Nellie Rollinson’s.” 

“I don’t. I think it’s awful.” 

“Why, Toby, you said once you thought Nellie’s 
hair was very pretty!” 

“Maybe it is, on her. It wouldn’t be on you, 
though. And I don’t want any of it, thanks. Take 
her in a little closer, to shore. It’s flood tide.” 

The Turnover was remarkably well behaved to- 
day and they ran into the canal long before two 
o’clock, and, at Phebe’s suggestion, disembarked 
and walked over to the hills and, finally, to the 
south shore. The summer season was well be- 
gun and there was plenty to see and to interest 
them. They had ice cream sodas at a little shop 
and wandered back to the launch about three. 
Instead of making straight home, Toby, who 
24 


THE TURNOVER 


claimed the wheel now, headed the Turnover 
toward the middle of the bay, and, with a nice 
breeze blowing Phebe’s hair about her face and 
enough of a chop to set the launch advancing 
merrily in the sunlight, they spent the next hour 
in running leisurely across to the north shore and 
back. It was when the Turnover was pointed 
homeward again, about four, that Phebe, curled 
up in the bow, called Toby’s attention to a small 
launch a mile or so distant and some two miles 
off Spanish Head. 

“They are either fishing or have broken down,” 
“I’ve been watching them for some time.” 

“There aren’t any fish there,” replied Toby, 
viewing the distant launch. “Guess their engine’s 
gone back on them. They’ve got their anchor 
over. We’ll soon find out.” 

“They’re waving at us, I think,” said Phebe a 
minute later. “Look, Toby.” 

“That’s right.” Toby waved his hat in reply 
and sent the Turnover along faster. “I wonder 
what launch that is,” he added as the distance 

lessened. “She looks a bit like ” his voice 

dwindled. Then he laughed, and: “That’s just 
who she is!” he cried g.ayly. “That’s the Frolic , 
sis ! And, unless I’m much mistaken, that’s Pretty 
Boy waving!” 


CHAPTER III 


ARNOLD PAYS HIS DEBTS 

T OBY was not mistaken, for presently the 
Turnover was close enough to the dis- 
abled white launch for him to identify 
one of her two passengers as Arnold Deering. 
Who the other boy was Toby didn’t know, nor 
did he much care; He slipped the. clutch into 
neutral and let the Turnover run down alongside 
the Frolic. As he did so he vastly enjoyed the 
expression of surprise and annoyance that came 
into Arnold’s face when the latter recognized 
him. 

“Hello,” said Toby as the boats bobbed side 
by side. “Want some more gasoline?” 

“Hello,” answered Arnold gruffly. “This 
silly engine’s out of whack. We can’t start her. 
If you’ll give us a tow I’ll pay you for it.” 

Toby considered a moment, or appeared to. 
Then, as the Turnover was floating past, he threw 
in the clutch again and circled around to the other 
side. At last: “I don’t know about towing,” he 
said doubtfully. “The Frolic's pretty heavy for 
2 6 


ARNOLD PAYS HIS DEBTS 


us, I guess. I might send some one out to you 
when I get in.” 

Phebe uttered a low-voiced protest. “Don’t 
be horrid, Toby,” she said. “Of course we can 
tow them.” 

But the boys in the white launch didn’t hear 
that, and Arnold looked dismayed. “But, look 
here, whatever-your-name-is ” 

“Well, you said it was Red-head this morning,” 
replied Toby carelessly. 

Arnold flushed. “We’ve been here since half- 
past two, and we want to get home. I’ve a rope 
here, and if you’ll tow us in I’ll give you a dollar.” 

The second occupant of the Frolic , an older and 
bigger boy with dark hair and eyes and a some- 
what sulky expression, chimed in impatiently. 
“We’ll give him two dollars. I’ll pay half. I’ve 
got to get back by five o’clock, Arn.” 

“All right then, two,” amended Arnold anx- 
iously. “Get that half-inch rope out of the stern 
locker, Frank, will you?” 

“Oh, I’d do it for a dollar,” said Toby, “or I 
might do it for nothing at all. It isn’t that.” He 
ruminated again and again chugged the Turnover 
into position. “Tell you what I will do,” he con- 
tinued then. “I’ll come aboard and see if I can 
start her for you.” 


27 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“What’s the good of that?” demanded Frank. 
“We’ve been trying for nearly two hours. And 
we want to get in.” 

“Maybe I might think of something you 
haven’t,” answered Toby. 

“All right, come ahead,” said Arnold. 

Toby slid the Turnover close to the other launch 
and shut off the engine. “You hold her, Phebe,” 
he instructed. Then: “This is my sister, Phebe,” 
he added by way of introduction. “Phebe, this is 
Arnold Deering. You remember I spoke of him 
this noon,” he added innocently. 

Arnold colored as he- murmured a response and 
then introduced Frank Lamson. Phebe* nodded 
shyly and Toby clambered aboard the Frolic. The 
two boys then followed him as he tested the 
engine by throwing the spark on and turning the 
wheel a few times. There was no response from 
the cylinders and Toby disconnected the wires 
from the spark-plugs and grounded them against 
the engine one at a time. He got sparks from 
three of the four, and, after he had cleaned the 
fourth plug, from all of them. An examination of 
the carbureter followed leisurely, Toby whistling 
softly all the time. Presently he followed the 
gasoline supply pipe back from engine to tank, 
having to raise the locker covers to do so, and 
28 


ARNOLD PAYS HIS DEBTS 


at last, snapping the door of the forward locker 
shut again, he faced Arnold with a satisfied nod. 

“Got it,” he said. 

“Really? What was the trouble?” asked the 
Frolic’s skipper. 

“Nothing much. I can fix it in a minute.” 

“Go ahead, then,” said Frank Lamson, with a 
scowl. “We’re in a hurry, I tell you.” 

Toby observed him ruminatively for a moment, 
and then turned his gaze to Arnold. “I’m still 
whistling, you see,” he said, and to prove it went 
on with his tune. 

“Don’t be a fool,” begged Arnold. “If you can 
fix it ” 

“Won’t take me a minute — after I get started,” 
was the untroubled reply. Toby reached up and 
took off his hat. “You might just take another 
look at my hair,” he continued pleasantly. “When 
the sun isn’t on it’s quite a bit darker, I 
think.” 

“Toby!” exclaimed Phebe, in a shocked voice. 

Arnold flushed and stammered. “What’s that 
got to do with it?” he asked. Frank Lamson 
looked bewildered. 

“Well,” said Toby, “I thought maybe you’d 
like to see* if you weren’t mistaken about the color 
of my hair.” 


29 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


Arnold looked at Frank and at Phebe, and 
finally at Toby’s gently smiling countenance and 
swallowed hard. Finally: “Well, it isn’t as red 
as I thought it was,” he- muttered. “I suppose the 
sun being on it ” 

“Sure! But just you take another look; take a 
good hard one now. Sort of brown, isn’t it?” 

Arnold hesitated, cast a. fleeting glance at the 
exposed hair, and grinned in a sickly way. “I 
guess that’s so,” he allowed. “I — I’d say it was 
quite brown.” 

“Not the least bit red, eh?” 

Arnold shook his head: “Not a bit.” 

“And, seeing you were mistaken this morning, 
maybe you’d like to sort of apologize,” suggested 
Toby. Phebe was observing Arnold with an ex- 
pression that seemed to convey to him an apology 
for her brother’s conduct, and perhaps her look 
helped him over his embarrassment. At all events, 
when- Frank Lamson, puzzled and resentful, broke 
in with: “What’s the fuss about? Who cares 
whether his hair’s brown or ” Arnold inter- 

rupted quickly. 

“Whoa, Frank! This chap’s right.” He 
laughed good humoredly. “I take it back, Tucker, 
and apologize. You’re all right! And — and you 
can stop whistling!” 


30 


ARNOLD PAYS HIS DEBTS 


Toby smiled sunnily and clapped his hat on his 
head. “Now we’ll start her,” he said. He went 
back to the forward locker in which the gasoline 
tank was located, thrust in a hand, withdrew it, 
closed the door again and returned to the engine. 
“Now try her,” he said. 

Arnold did so and the engine woke promptly 
to life. 

“What was it?” he demanded, surprise and 
admiration struggling for supremacy in his face. 

Toby laughed. “I’ll tell you so it won’t be 
likely to happen again,” he replied. “You’ve got 
a globe cock on your gasoline supply pipe where 
it leaves the tank. Usually that shut-off is down 
here by the engine, and I don’t know why they 
put it there. But they did, and when you pulled 
your anchor out of your bow locker you man- 
aged to get your cable fouled with the cock and 
turned it almost square off. You weren’t getting 
any gasoline, Deering.” 

“But I tried the carbureter twice and it 
flooded!” 

“Of course it did, because there was gasoline 
in the pipe. The cock wasn’t quite closed, and 
enough kept running into the pipe to show in the 
carbureter, but not to explode in the cylinders. If 
I were you I’d take a piece of zinc and turn it over 
3i 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


that cock; make a sort of hood of it, you know, 
so your line won’t get twisted in it.” 

“I didn’t know there was any shut-off there,” 
grumbled Frank Lamson, “or I’d have looked 
at it.” 

“There’s always one somewhere on the pipe,” 
replied Toby dryly. “Well, you’re all right now, 
I guess, eh?” 

“Yes, thanks,” said Arnold gratefully. “And, 

by the way, Tucker ” He pulled a dollar bill 

from his coin purse and held it out with a smile. 
“I guess I’ll pay my debt.” 

Toby gravely fished up a penny and the transfer 
was made. 

“I don’t know,” continued Arnold doubtfully, 
“but what I’d ought to pay for all that gas.” He 
made a motion toward his pocket again, but Toby 
waved the idea aside. 

“No, we settled that,” he said. “I don’t mind 
paying half. It was worth it !” 

Arnold laughed. Then: “But, hold on! How 
about this job?” he exclaimed. “Better let me 
pay you something for it. I’d rather.” 

“Oh, shucks, that’s all right. We don’t charge 
for helping friends out of trouble around here,” 
answered Toby as he climbed back to the Turn - 
over. “So long!” 


32 


ARNOLD PAYS HIS DEBTS 


“Well, I’m awfully much obliged,” responded 
Arnold, and his thanks seemed to include Phebe 
as well. “Good-by.” He took off his cap, some- 
thing which his companion neglected to do, and 
waved a farewell as the Turnover moved away. 
Frank Lamson only nodded, but, as the Turnover 
circled around toward the. harbor, he called across 
the water: “Say, we’ll race you back!” 

But Toby shook his head. “I’m not in racing 
trim today,” he called back. “Some other 
time !” 

The Frolic passed them presently, doing a good 
ten miles against the turning tide, and Arnold, 
standing at the wheel in the bow, waved once 
more. 

“You ought to have been ashamed, Toby,” said 
his sister severely, “to act like that!” 

“Act like what?” inquired the boy innocently. 

“You know perfectly well.” 

“Oh, that! Why, you see, sis, I knew he’d 
made a mistake, and I knew he’d want to — to 
correct it. So I just gave him a chance.” 

“But to refuse to fix the engine until he’d 
apologized!” 

“I didn’t refuse. I’d have fixed it if he hadn’t. 
That was just a bluff — and it worked!” Toby 
chuckled. “What did you think of him?” 

33 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“I thought he was very — very nice,” replied 
Phebe, after a moment. 

“He isn’t so bad, I guess,” agreed Toby care- 
lessly. “Some one ought to show him how to run 
that boat, though.” 

“And he is very good looking, too,” added 
Phebe. 

Toby grinned. “You wait till you see me with 
my hair slicked down flat with vaseline, sis!” 

“Vaseline! The idea! His hair is just nat- 
urally shiny.” 

“Must be. Anyway, you’ve taken a shine to 
it! Wonder where he picked up that Lantern 
chap?” 

“Lamson, it was.” 

“Lamson, then. He’s a surly beggar.” Toby 
frowned. “He came mighty near getting into 
trouble, too. He almost said my hair was red. 
If Deering hadn’t stopped him just when he 
did ” 

“Toby, you’re too silly for words about the 
color of your hair. You know very well that it 
is — well, reddish, and I don’t see why you don’t 
make up your mind to it.” 

“You’ve got a pimple on the end of your nose, 
but ” 

“Toby! I haven’t!” Phebe investigated agi- 
34 


ARNOLD PAYS HIS DEBTS 


tatedly. “It’s just the tiniest bit of a one, then. 
Does it show much?” 

“Well, you couldn’t see it across the harbor,” 
was the unfeeling reply. “Anyhow, it’s there, and 
I’ll bet you wouldn’t want folks to tell you about 
it. Well, it’s like that with my hair, sis. I know 
it’s sort of reddish — in the sunlight, maybe — but 
I don’t care to have fellows say so. When they 
do they either have to fight or apologize.” 

“I don’t see how fighting proves anything,” ob- 
jected Phebe. 

“It doesn’t prove anything, no, but it sort of 
makes you forget the insult! Here we are. Take 
the wheel and I’ll fend her off. I hope there’s 
something good for supper !” 


CHAPTER IV 


FRIENDS AFLOAT 

T OBY saw no more of Arnold for a week, 
for school kept him busy, but Mr. 
Tucker reported that the Frolic had 
twice been to the wharf for gasoline and that on 
each occasion her skipper had inquired for him. 
School came to end for the summer that Friday 
and Toby brought his books home to his little 
slanting-walled room with a sigh of relief. He 
didn’t mind studying, for he wanted to learn 
things, but since the really warm weather had set 
in, lessons had been a task indeed. One thing, 
though, that he could congratulate himself on was 
that he was now through grammar school and 
next fall would start in at high school over at 
Johnstown. As long as the weather would al- 
low it, he meant to make the trip back and forth 
in the Turnover , a matter of three miles from 
landing to landing. 

When the ice came he would have to walk to 
Riverport, a good two miles, and take the train 
there for Johnstown, and that wouldn’t be quite 
36 


FRIENDS AFLOAT 


so pleasant. Toby’s ambition, though it was as 
yet not very strong, was to some day take hold 
of Tucker’s Boat Yard and make it as big and 
busy and successful as it once had been. But 
Toby’s father didn’t give him much encourage- 
ment. Boat-building at Greenhaven, he declared 
pessimistically, had had its day. Launches had 
taken the place of honest sailboats, and there were 
too many launch-makers in that part of the world. 
There was no money in it any longer; just a liv- 
ing, and a bare one at that. Toby thought he 
knew better, but he didn’t argue it. There was 
time enough yet. 

In another four years, when he had learned 
all they had to teach him at the Johnstown High 
School, and he was very, very wise, perhaps he 
would take hold of the business and show his 
father that there was still money to be made in it. 
Of course, Toby had not figured out just how he 
was to do it. There was time enough for that, 
too! 

He and Arnold had their next meeting Satur- 
day morning, a week almost to the minute after 
their first. Toby had taken some provisions 
around to a houseboat moored in Nobbs Bay, on 
the other side of Spanish Harbor, and was chug- 
ging lazily back in the Turnover , when from across 
37 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


the water a faint hail reached him. A quarter of 
a mile away a figure stood on the new steel pier 
that extended into the bay at the end of Spanish 
Head, and Toby, shading his eyes, recognized 
Arnold Deering. Since his errand had been ac- 
complished and there was no more work in sight 
just then, he turned the launch toward the land- 
ing and was soon within talking distance. The 
Frolic was lying beside the float there, in company 
with a cedar skiff, and a brilliantly blue canoe 
rested, keel up, on the planks. 

“Hello, Tucker!” called Arnold in friendly 
fashion. “Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere much. I took some grub to that 
houseboat in there. Going out in the launch?” 
Toby slid the Turnover up to the end of the float 
and Arnold came down the sloping gangplank. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I will.” He held the 
Turnover to the landing with one rubber-soled 
shoe on the gunwale. “Say, I met your father 
the other day.” 

“He told me.” 

“He’s awfully nice, isn’t he?” 

Toby considered. Finally: “Yes,” he said. 
“He takes after me.” 

Arnold laughed. “Say, you must have thought 
I was an awful fresh chump the other day,” he 

38 


FRIENDS AFLOAT 


said apologetically. “I’m sorry I was so peevish.” 
He smiled reminiscently. “Fact is, you know, I 
was mad because I’d made such a mess of that 
landing.” 

“I guess we were both sort of fresh,” answered 
Toby. “Want to go out in a good boat?” 

“Yes.” Arnold leaped aboard. “Your father 
said you’d made this yourself.” 

“Most of it. I made the hull, but dad and 
Long Tim — he works for dad — helped me a lot 
with the lockers and so on.” 

“I should think you’d be mighty proud of it,” 
said the other admiringly. “I would. How did 
you happen to call her the Turnover?” 

Toby explained as he started off, and Arnold 
laughed appreciatively. “That would be a better 
name for my canoe,” he said. “She turned over 
with me the other day about a half-mile out there 
and I had to swim all the way in with her. There’s 
too much chop around here for canoeing.” 

“Which way do you want to go?” asked Toby. 
“Ever been over to Johnstown?” 

“No, Frank and I started for there last Satur- 
day, the day we broke down.” 

“How did you happen to stop the launch out 
there, anyway? Were you going to fish?” 

Arnold nodded. “Yes, Frank said there’d be 

39 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


cod there. Then after we’d got the anchor over 
we found we’d forgotten to bring any bait.” 

“Cod!” laughed Toby. “I guess a sea robin 
or a sculpin would have been about all you’d 
have caught. Who is this fellow Lamson?” 

“He lives on the other side over there. He goes 
to school where I do.” 

“Do you like him?” 

“Like him?” Arnold had to consider that. 
“N-no, not a lot, I guess. Do you?” 

“Not so far. He looks all the time as if he’d 
swallowed something that didn’t agree wth him. 
And he pretty nearly said I had red hair !” 

“Say, I’m sorry I said anything about — about 
your hair,” said Arnold contritely. “It was 
beastly rude.” 

“Well, I’m sort of touchy about that,” replied 
Toby. “Of course my hair is — er — I mean when 
you look at it a certain way it does seem a little 
bit inclined to be reddish. It isn’t really red, you 
know, but it — -rit has a sort of tinge! Lots of 
fellows make mistakes about it. The first year 
I was in grammar school I was all the time — er — 
showing fellows how mistaken they were.” 

“The same way you showed me?” inquired 
Arnold slyly. 

Toby nodded, and smiled gently. “About like 
40 


FRIENDS AFLOAT 


that. Of course, I don’t mind a joke, you know. 
Folks I like can call me red-headed all they want 
to. But I don’t seem to care for it from 
strangers.” 

“I see. I won’t ever say anything like that 
again,” Arnold assured him. 

Toby gazed intently toward the island sliding 
past them to port. “I wouldn’t care if you did — 
now,” he murmured. “If I like a fellow” — his 
voice dwindled off into silence. 

“All the more reason I shouldn’t,” said Arnold. 
“If I like a fellow I don’t want to hurt his feel- 
ings.” 

“No, but — when you like a fellow you don’t 
mind what he says,” returned Toby. His eyes 
sought Arnold’s face for an instant and then re- 
turned to the island. “You can call me Red-head 
if you want to. I wouldn’t care.” 

“I guess I’d rather call you by your real name,” 
laughed Arnold. “I would if I was sure of it. 
Is it Toby?” 

“Yes. Funny sort of a name, isn’t it? Tobias 
it is when it’s all there. Dad got it out of the 
Bible. All the male Tuckers have Bible names. 
Dad’s is Aaron. When he was a kid the boys 
used to call him ‘Big A, little a, r, o, n!’ His 
father’s name was Jephthah; Captain Jeph, they 
4i 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


called him. I’m glad they didn’t tag me with 
that name !” 

“I think Toby’s a rather jolly name,” said 
Arnold reflectively. “I like it better than Arnold.” 

“I don’t. Arnold’s got a lot of style to it; 
sounds like it was out of a story. What do the 
fellows at school call you?” 

“Arn, usually. Say, this boat can travel, can’t 
she? How fast is she going?” 

“About ten, I guess; maybe eleven.” Toby ad- 
vanced the throttle as far as it would go, listened 
and pushed it back a little. “She misses if I give 
her too much gas.” 

“Seems to me she goes faster than the Frolic ” 

“She’s smaller and you’re nearer the water. 
That makes her seem to go faster. There’s the 
landing ahead. Want to go in?” 

“No, let’s just knock around, unless you’ve got 
something to do.” 

“I haven’t as long as I stay away from home,” 
replied Toby dryly. “Say, what school do you go 
to in winter?” 

“Yardley Hall.” 

“Where’s that?” 

“Wissining, Connecticut.” Arnold waved a hand 
vaguely toward the west. “Over there on the 
other side of the Sound. Ever hear of it?” 

42 


FRIENDS AFLOAT 


Toby shook his head. “I don’t know much 
about schools. It’s a boarding school, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, and it’s a dandy. I wish you could see it. 
Where do’ you go, Toby?” 

“Me ? Next year I’m going to high school here 
at Johnstown. You can almost see the building. 
It’s about a mile up from the landing there, near 
where you see that white steeple. I’d rather go 
to a boarding school, though. It must be lots of 
fun. What do you do?” 

So for the next half-hour, while the Turnover , 
slowed down to a four-mile gait, rocked and 
swayed over the sunlit waters of the bay, Arnold 
recited the glories of Yardley Hall School and 
told of football and baseball and hockey battles 
and of jolly times in hall. Perhaps Arnold drew 
rather a one-sided picture of life at Yardley, omit- 
ting mention of such things as study and discipline 
and the periodical examinations, but that was only 
natural, for he was proud of Yardley and wanted 
to make it as alluring as possible. Toby listened 
intently, questioning now and then, because many 
of Arnold’s references were quite unintelligible 
to him, and, when Arnold had reached the end of 
his subject, sighed wistfully. 

“My, wouldn’t I like that!” he exclaimed. 
“Are the other fellows nice? I suppose 
43 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


they’re mostly all swells like you, aren’t they?” 

“I’m not a ‘swell,’ thank you! There are all 
sorts of fellows at Yardley, though. I guess the 
kind you call ‘swells’ are pretty few. Lots of them 
are just poor fellows ” 

“Like me,” interpolated Toby. 

“I didn’t mean that l” 

“Oh, I don’t mind. I am poor, you know. I 
mean dad is. We used to have a little money, 
when the boat yard was more — more flourishing, 
but nowadays we just sort of scrape along. 
That’s why I couldn’t go to boarding school. It 
would cost too much money. I’d like to, though. 
Say, wouldn’t I just!” Toby’s face lighted. Then 
he laughed. “I guess it wouldn’t do, though, be- 
cause I’d have to fight half the school for calling 
me red-headed!” 

“You’d have your hands full then. We’ve got 
about three hundred fellows.” 

Toby shook his head sadly. “I wouldn’t last, 
then, would I ? The only thing I could do would 
be to dye my hair black. Do you have to study 
very hard?” 

“Yes, we do,” answered Arnold, frankly. 
“Especially in fourth and third classes.” 

“What’s your class?” 

“I’ll be in third next year. Last year was my 

44 


FRIENDS AFLOAT 


first. Say, wouldn’t it be great if you could get 
your father to let you come to Yardley?” 

“Yes, it would be dandy,” answered Toby, 
smiling wryly. “And I can see him doing it ! How 
much does it cost, anyway? Say it slow, will you, 
so it won’t sound so much?” 

“Well, the tuition’s only a hundred ” 

“Is that all?” asked Toby carelessly. “Would 
they take a check for it? Go ahead. What else 
do you have to pay for?” 

“Room and board, of course. That costs from 
two hundred to three hundred and fifty, according 
to your room.” 

“Well, I’d want a nice room, of course; one 
with a southern exposure and hard and soft water. 
How much would I have to pay for storing my 
automobile?” 

“Don’t be an idiot,” laughed Arnold. “That 
isn’t an awful lot of money, is it?” 

“No, indeed! Oh, no! But I suppose there’d 
be extras, wouldn’t there? Maybe I’d have to 
tip the principal and the teachers, eh?” 

“You’d have to pay five dollars a year as an 
athletic assessment, and pay for your washing 
and your books. Books don’t cost much. You 
can get second-hand ones usually if you want to.” 

“I guess not!” exclaimed Toby indignantly. 

45 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Nothing cheap for Tobias Tucker! Well, I’ll 
figure it up and think it over. But say, honest 
now, do all boarding schools cost like this one 
of yours?” 

“I don’t know, but I guess they’re about the 
same. Some cost you more, maybe.” 

“Where could I find one of those? I’d hate to 
get settled at your school and then find there was 
a more expensive one ! That would pretty nearly 
break my heart, it would so! Well, maybe we’d 
better be getting back. I suppose you’ve got to 
polish your diamonds yet.” 

“Shut up,” said Arnold, shortly. “If you talk 
like that I’ll — I’ll call you ‘Carrots’ !” 

“Better not,” chuckled Toby. “The last time 
you did it it cost you two dollars! Calling me 
names is expensive!” 

“What are you going to do until lunch time?” 
asked the other, as Toby headed back toward the 
Deerings’ landing. 

“Me? Oh, I guess I’ll go back to Perkins & 
Howe’s and see if they’ve got any more jobs. I 
made a half-dollar taking that stuff to the house- 
boat.” He pulled the coin from his pocket and 
exhibited it. Arnold observed it interestedly. 

“I suppose,” he said thoughtfully, “a half-dol- 
lar seems a lot bigger if you make it yourself.” 

4 6 


FRIENDS AFLOAT 


“Oh, I didn’t make this,” said Toby innocently. 
“I just earned it. It’s a regular half-dollar.” He 
flipped it in the air to let it fall on the seat beside 
him in proof of his assertion, and it did just as 
he intended it should, up to the point when it 
struck against the wood. After that it acted most 
inconsiderately, for, having landed on its edge, it 
flew up again and described a graceful curve over 
the gunwale. 

“Grab it!” yelled Arnold. Toby made a fran- 
tic clutch for it, but his hand closed emptily and the 
coin disappeared into the green water of Great 
Peconic Bay! 

There was a moment of deep silence during 
which the occupants of the launch gazed at each 
other in surprised consternation. Then: 

“I’m awfully sorry,” murmured Arnold. 

A slow smile spread over Toby’s face. “So 
am I,” he replied, cheerfully. “But that’s what 
I get for being foolish. I mean that’s what I 
don’t get. Well, maybe I earned it too easily, 
anyhow. I guess a quarter would have been 
enough for that job. It puts me back fifty cents, 
though, toward getting to Yardley Hall, doesn’t 
it?” 

“Look here,” began Arnold shyly, “I wish you’d 

let me ” His hand moved tentatively toward 

47 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


his pocket. “It was partly my fault, anyway ” 

“Yes, you rocked the boat,” answered Toby 
gravely. Then he* broke into a hearty laugh. 
“Say, Arnold, you and I will have this old bay 
just choked up with money if we keep on ! They’ll 
have to begin and dredge it first thing we know. 
There’s two and a half already, and here it is 
only the first of July!” 


CHAPTER V 


SHOTS IN THE DARK 

T HAT was the beginning of a fine friend- 
ship. Toby and Arnold became well- 
nigh inseparable. They spent hours and 
hours together in the Frolic or the Turn- 
over, swam, fished, canoed occasionally, ex- 
plored by land and sea, and spent much time 
curled up in a favorite corner of the boat-yard 
building glorious plans for the future. Sometimes 
Phebe was their companion, and sometimes, 
though less frequently, Frank Lamson. Toby put 
up with Frank for Arnold’s sake, but never got 
to like him. For his part, Frank failed to see why 
Arnold wanted to associate with a fellow whose 
father worked “like a common laborer” and who 
“slopped around in clothes you wouldn’t give to 
the ashman!” 

But Frank’s disapproval didn’t influence Arnold 
to any great extent, and Frank soon learned to 
keep it to himself. He viewed Phebe more tol- 
erantly because she was pretty and presentable, 
even if her dresses would have failed to pass mus- 
49 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


ter over at the Head. But what Frank thought 
of her bothered Phebe little, since she liked him 
no better than Toby did, although she was a trifle 
more careful to disguise the fact. 

Once and only once Toby went home with 
Arnold to luncheon. It happened that a trip 
down the bay in the Turnover had taken more time 
than they had foreseen, and when the launch 
floated up to the Deerings’ pier to let Arnold off 
it was long after Toby’s dinner hour. Toby had 
resisted a while against Arnold’s pleading, but 
he was horribly hungry and Arnold assured him 
that what he had on wouldn’t matter a bit, and 
finally he had yielded. What had happened was 
not at all terrifying, for Arnold’s aunt, who, since 
the death of the lad’s mother many years before, 
had presided over the Deering establishment, was 
very gracious indeed to the guest; while Mr. 
Deering was in New York. And the wonderful 
things that were placed before Toby tasted finely 
and surely filled an aching void. But for all that 
he wasn’t comfortable. He had never seen so 
many dishes and glasses and forks and knives and 
spoons, nor so many servants. Nor had he ever 
had his table .manners put to so severe a test. 
Afterwards, although Arnold for a while fre- 
quently extended invitations to luncheon, Toby 
SO 


SHOTS IN THE DARK 

always found some excuse for declining. He 
never gave the real reason, however, although pos- 
sibly Arnold guessed it. Eventually Arnold gave 
it up as a bad job, but that didn’t keep him from 
partaking of the Tucker hospitality, and he was a 
frequent guest at the dinner table in the little 
cottage above Harbor Street. Every one liked 
Arnold, even Mr. Murphy; and Mr. Murphy 
was constitutionally suspicious of strangers. 

Mr. Murphy sat on a perch in the corner of the 
dining-room, by the window that looked along the 
winding street, an uncannily wise-appearing old 
parrot with a draggled tail and a much-battered 
beak. Phebe explained that he used to have a 
perfectly gorgeous tail, but that he would insist 
on pulling the feathers out no matter how she 
scolded him. Like most parrots, Mr. Murphy 
had his periods of inviolate silence and his periods 
of invincible loquacity. During the former all 
enticements failed to summon even a squawk from 
him, and during the latter only banishment to a 
certain dark closet under the hall stairs would 
stop the flow of his* eloquence. It wasn’t so much 
that the parrot’s repertoire was extensive as that 
he made the most of it. Unlike Shakespeare, he 
repeated! Having spent several years of an 
eventful life before the mast, he had learned a 
51 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


number of remarks that brought embarrassed 
apologies from Phebe. On the whole, though, and 
in view of his early environment, his conversation 
was remarkably polite. 

His usual welcome was “Hello, dearie !” fol- 
lowed by “Won’t you take off your bonnet?” 
After that he usually laughed jeeringly, sidled 
across his perch, lowered himself and gravely hung 
by his beak. “All hands, stand by!” was gen- 
erally delivered in a peremptory shriek that, at 
first, had had a devastating effect on Mrs. Tucker’s 
nerves. As though realizing the fact, Mr. Mur- 
phy thereupon chuckled wickedly and murmured 
softly and crooningly: “Well, well, well! Did 
you ever?” Phebe had taught him to say, “Come 
to breakfast,” and he had grown very partial to 
the remark, making use of it at all times of the 
day with cheerful disregard for appropriateness. 
For a while he had made the cat’s life a burden to 
her by calling “Kitty, Kitty, Kitty! Come, pretty 
Kitty!” and then going into peals of raucous laugh- 
ter the minute the poor cat’s head appeared around 
the door. Arnold won Mr. Murphy’s undying 
affection by feeding him pop-corn surreptitiously, 
pop-corn being an article of diet strictly forbidden 
by Phebe. He also spent much time during the 
summer trying to induce the bird to say “Arnold,” 
52 


SHOTS IN THE DARK 


but it wasn’t until late in August that Toby, pass- 
ing the dining-room door one afternoon, heard 
Mr. Murphy croaking experimentally in a low 
voice : “Say Arnold, you chump !” 

Toby still performed odd jobs and picked up 
an occasional quarter or half-dollar, but it must 
be acknowledged that he was far less earnest in 
his endeavors to find employment than he had 
been before Arnold’s advent on the scene. But 
he was only fourteen — “going on fifteen,” as he 
would have put it — and so it isn’t to be greatly 
wondered at that he found his new friend’s com- 
panionship more enjoyable than running errands 
or delivering groceries in out-of-the-way places 
for Perkins & Howe. Mr. Tucker at first viewed 
Toby’s frivolity with displeasure, but Mrs. Tucker 
declared that it would do him more good to play 
and have a good time with a nice boy like Arnold 
Deering than to loiter about Main Street on the 
lookout for a job. I think that struck Toby’s 
father as being good sense, for he never after that 
taxed the boy with idleness. Sometimes Toby had 
qualms of conscience and for a day or two re- 
sisted all Arnold’s blandishments and gave him- 
self up sternly to commerce. Frequently at such 
times Arnold likewise eschewed the life of pleasure 
and threw in his lot with that of Toby, and to- 
53 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


gether they sat in the back room of the grocery 
store awaiting orders; or canvassed the other 
places of business on the chance of finding service. 
It was at such a time, seated on boxes by Perkins 
& Howe’s back entrance, with a strong odor of 
spices and coffee and cucumbers enveloping them 
— it happened that Arnold was seated on the crate 
of cucumbers — that the plan of the baseball series 
between the town boys and the summer visitors 
was evolved. The sight of two youngsters 
passing a ball on the side street that ran 
down to the fish wharf put the idea into Ar- 
nold’s head. 

“Do you play baseball, Toby?” he asked. 
Toby nodded. “Well, then, let’s have a game 
some time.” 

“You and me?” asked Toby, with a grin. 

“No, silly! We’ll get up a couple of teams, of 
course. There are plenty of fellows on the Head 
and around there to make up one, and you could 
find enough here in town for the other, couldn’t 
you?” 

Toby nodded again. “Most of the fellows on 
the school team would play, I guess. What would 
we do, draw lots?” 

“Yes; or we could have it summer visitors 
against town fellows. How would that do?” 

54 


SHOTS IN THE DARK 


Toby reflected. “I’d rather play on the team 
with you, Arn,” he said at last. 

“So would I with you, Toby, but it would be 
more interesting the other way, wouldn’t it? 
Where do you play?” 

“Me? Oh, most anywhere. I played third 
base this spring, and last year I played center field 
part of the time, and part of the time I caught. 
I’m what you call an all-round player, a sort of 
general utility man!” 

“Fine ! I played first on my class team this 
spring. Let’s do it, eh? Where could w‘e play?” 

“I guess we could use the school most any day 
except Saturday. Does Frank play?” 

“Yes, he’s a pretty good pitcher. I guess I’d 
ask him to pitch for us. Who would you get?” 

“Tim Chrystal, probably. He’s about the best 
we have. I don’t know, though, if he’d have time. 
He works for his father, you see. When would 
we play?” 

“Today’s Wednesday, isn’t it? How about 
Saturday?” 

“We mightn’t be able to get the field Saturday. 
Besides, it’ll take me two or three days, I guess, 
to find a team. Let’s say a week from today.” 

“All right. It’ll be piles of fun. You call your 
nine the ‘Towners’ and I’ll call mine the ‘Span- 
55 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

iards.’ Couldn’t you go after your fellows to- 
day?” 

Toby hesitated. “Maybe. I guess there isn’t 
anything to do here. I might start after dinner.” 

“Good! And I’ll beat it around the Head this 
afternoon and see who I can get hold of. There 
are two or three fellows I don’t know very well, 
but that doesn’t matter, I guess. I wish your folks 
had a telephone so that I could call you up this 
evening and see how you’d got along.” 

“Dad says telephones waste too much time. 
Why don’t you come over in the launch? It’s 
moonlight now.” 

“I suppose I could,” replied Arnold doubtfully. 
“I’ve never run her at night, though.” 

“Better begin, then. It’s no harder than run- 
ning in daylight. Easier, I guess, because there 
aren’t so many boats about. Come over about 
eight and I’ll meet you at the town landing. It’ll 
be low tide at our pier, and you might get aground, 
seeing you don’t know the cove very well.” 

They talked it over further during the next half 
hour, and then, as it was dinner time, they aban- 
doned the search for labor and went their ways. 
Toby wanted Arnold to have dinner with him, 
but the latter was so filled with his new scheme 
that he insisted on chugging back to the Head so 
56 


SHOTS IN THE DARK 


he might start right out after luncheon on his 
quest for baseball talent They parted with the 
understanding that Arnold was to be at the town 
landing about eight, and that they were to meet 
there and report progress. 

The moon was up, a big silver half-disk, when 
Toby reached the float at a few minutes before 
eight, and the harbor was almost as light as day. 
He had to wait some time for the Frolic f and, 
when it did appear, heralded by tiny red and green 
lights, it was moving slowly and cautiously. Pres- 
ently Arnold’s hail floated across the water and 
Toby answered. 

“All clear at the end of the float, Arn! Come 
on straight in !” 

“All right, but it’s pretty dark where you are. 
How far away am I?” 

“Oh, nearly a hundred yards, I guess. Pull 
her out and float in. Can you see those boats at 
the moorings?” 

“Yes ; but I can’t see the float yet. They ought 
to have a light there.” The chug-chug of the 
Frolic exhaust lessened, and the white launch slid 
silently into the shadows. Presently : 

“Way enough,” called Toby. “Reverse her a 
couple of turns, Arn.” 

In a moment the Frolic thrust her bow into 

57 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


Toby’s waiting hands, and he fended her off and 
brought her side-to. “Want to tie up?” he asked. 
“Or shall we run around awhile?” 

“If you’ll take her,” replied Arnold. “I don’t 
like this moonlight business. It’s awfully confus- 
ing after you get into the harbor.” 

“All right Swing your wheel over hard and 
I’ll push her off. That’s the ticket.” Toby sprang 
aboard and took the wheel from Arnold and the 
launch set off again. Once outside the harbor, 
with the engine throttle down until it made al- 
most no sound, the two boys compared notes. 

“I’ve got seven fellows,” Arnold reported, “and 
I know where I can get four more. Frank will 
pitch for us and a chap named Dodson is going 
to catch. Frank says he’s a dandy. All I need 
now is a good shortstop and another fielder. All 
the fellows,” he added ruefully, “want to play 
the bases — or pitch. It’s funny how many of 
them are wonderful pitchers, when they tell it! 
How did you get on?” 

“Me? Not very well. Tim Chrystal has prom- 
ised to pitch if he doesn’t have to do any practic- 
ing, and I got three other fellows to promise to 
play. The trouble is, you see, most of them are 
older than I am and they don’t like the idea of 
my being captain. Tim said he thought Billy 
58 


SHOTS IN THE DARK 


Connors ought to be. What do you think?” 

“Nothing doing! You’re getting up the team, 
and you’re captain, of course. If they don’t like 
it, get some one else.” 

“Yes, but there aren’t so awfully many, you 
see. I’ve still got to find five or six more. There’s 
Tony George, but he has to be at the fruit 
stand.” 

“At the what?” asked Arnold. 

“Fruit stand. His father’s the Italian man who 
has the stand next to Chapin’s drug store. He’s a 
mighty good third baseman, too, Tony is, and I 
wish he could play.” 

“Looks like this was going to be a sort of inter- 
national affair,” laughed Arnold. “Americans, 
Spaniards, and an Italian!” 

“And my second baseman’s a Portuguese, 
Manuel Sousa. He’s pretty good, too. How old 
will your fellows be?” 

“They’ll average about sixteen, I guess. Dod- 
son must be seventeen, but most of them are 
about my age. I hope you can find the rest of 
the fellows you need, Toby.” 

“I guess I can. I wish they didn’t all want to 
be captain, though. I don’t mind not being, but 
they can’t all have it.” 

“You’re going to be captain,” replied Arnold, 

59 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


decisively. “If you aren’t we won’t play you. 
You can tell them that, too.” 

Toby sighed. “All right. I’ll stick out for it. 

I guess lots of the others would do it better, 
though. You see, Billy Connors captained our 
school team, and — = — ” 

Toby stopped abruptly, and the two boys turned 
their heads and stared startledly across the moon- 
lit water of Nobbs’ Bay. 

“What was that?” asked Toby. 

“Sounded like a shot, didn’t it? Over that 
way. There !” 

Two tiny yellow flashes of light pricked the 
darkness of the further shore, followed by as many 
sharp reports, and then, more faintly, a shout. In- 
stinctively Toby swung the launch shoreward. 

“Some one on that houseboat, I guess,” he 
said. “Probably shooting at a bottle or something 
in the water. That’s about where she’s moored.” 

“Anyway, it was a pistol, all right,” murmured 
Arnold. They listened, but heard no more shots, 
and Toby was straightening the Frolic out again 
for the run around the Head when the sound of a 
muffled exhaust reached them. Toby looked in- 
tently into the shadows of the Head. 

“That’s funny,” he muttered. “There’s a 
launch just kiting along over there and not a 
60 


SHOTS IN THE DARK 


light showing. Can you make her out, Arn? She’s 
about halfway to the Head, from the sound.” 

But nothing was visible in the darkness there. 
Only the throb of an exhaust reached them. And 
then, startlingly loud, came a cry across the bay: 

“Thieves! Thieves! Stop them!” 

Some one on the houseboat had seen the Frolic’s 
lights and was shouting through a megaphone. 
And at that moment a shadow seemed to detach 
itself from the shore and slip away into the moon- 
light beyond the point. The cry from the house- 
boat was repeated. 

“What shall we do?” cried Toby. 

“Go after them!” Arnold jumped toward the 
throttle and pulled it down, and the Frolic, re- 
sponding instantly, leaped forward as Toby un- 
hesitatingly swung the wheel over. 


CHAPTER VI 


PURSUIT AND CAPTURE 

UT DON’T believe we can catch them,” Toby 
muttered, his eyes on the tiny dark spot 
half a mile away. “And if we do we’ll 
probably get filled with bullets.” 

“Who do you suppose they are?” asked Arnold, 
excitedly. Toby shook his head. 

“I don’t know, but that launch of theirs can 
certainly go. What can the Frolic do at her best, 
Arn?” 

“Twelve, or a little better. How fast are they 
going?” 

“Can’t tell. Not more than that, I guess. 
She’s smaller than this, and sits pretty low. Built 
for speed, I’d say. I wonder if they really swiped 
anything.” 

“They must have tried to, anyway. Where’s 
that oil can?” Arnold found it and doused the 
engine liberally. Not being able to see very well, 
he took no chances, and oiled everything at hand 
and turned down the grease-cups. 

62 


PURSUIT AND CAPTURE 


“She’s changed her mind,” exclaimed Toby, 
“and is going down around the Head. How 
much gas have you got?” 

“The tank’s almost three-quarters full.” 

“How far will that take us?” 

“ ’Most a hundred miles, I guess. She eats it 
pretty fast at this pace, but seven gallons ” 

“Well, we’re not going any hundred miles,” 
responded Toby, “and I don’t believe those fel- 
lows mean to, either. They’ll either make for 
the canal and get out into Shinnecock Bay, or 
they’ll run straight along toward Shelter Island.” 

“Are we gaining any?” asked Arnold, anx- 
iously. 

“I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell. I guess 
they’re not going to try the canal. If they were 
they’d be turning by now. Maybe they think they 
can shake us off.” 

“Then they’ll have to go some,” said Arnold. 
“Where is she?” 

“Dead ahead. See that black spot?” 

For a moment Arnold failed to detect the flee- 
ing launch, and when he did he uttered a grunt 
of disappointment. “We’re certainly not gaining, 
Toby. She looks further away than she did.” 

“Yes, but she’s stern-to. I don’t think we’ve 
lost ‘any.” They were well past the Head now, 
63 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


and Nobbs Island Light was falling away to port. 
“What I’m wondering,” continued Toby, “is what 
we’re to do if we should catch her!” 

Arnold had no answer ready, and Toby went 
on: “There’s probably at least a couple of men 
in that launch, and they’ve got pistols ” 

“How do you know?” demanded Arnold. 

“We heard them.” 

“I don’t think so. The shots we heard were 
aimed away from the houseboat. Toby. If they 
hadn’t been we wouldn’t have seen the flashes. I 
guess it was the folks on the houseboat who did 
the firing.” 

“That’s so. Still, it’s mighty likely that there’s 
a pistol on that launch, just the same, even if 
they didn’t use it. And we haven’t any; and 
wouldn’t know what to do with it if we had. So 
what are we to do when we catch them?” 

“They won’t know who we are or how many 
there are of us,” replied Arnold. “And they 
won’t know that we haven’t plenty of revolvers, 
either. We’ll bluff them!” 

Toby chuckled. “I’d rather have something 
to back up my bluff, I guess. I’m game if you are, 
though, Arn. Besides, I dare say we needn’t 
trouble about what’s to happen when we get them, 
for I don’t believe we’re going to.” 

64 


PURSUIT AND CAPTURE 


“Have they gained any?” 

“No,” replied the other decisively. “They may 
not be any closer, but I’m certain they haven’t 
gained on us. There are the lights from Shinne- 
cock over there. We’ve done about six miles since 
we left the landing.” 

The fleeing launch was headed straight for the 
passage between the southerly point of Robins 
Island and Cow Neck, and was now about half- 
way between Spanish Head and the mile-wide 
passage. The lights of Shinnecock lay three miles 
off to the southeast. The throb of the scurrying 
Frolic alone broke the silence of the moonlit night 
for several minutes, and then Toby, his gaze fixed 
on the launch ahead, uttered an exclamation of 
satisfaction. 

“I’m not sure, Arn,” he said, “but I think we’re 
closing up a little. Doesn’t she look nearer than 
she did?” 

Arnold agreed and once more seized his oil 
can. A cruising launch sped past them a quarter- 
mile to the north, her port light glowing wanly in 
the moonlight. Toby’s eyes scarcely left the dark 
spot ahead and presently he said, with conviction: 
“We’re overhauling her fast now, Arn! You’d 
better get that bluff in working order, I guess.” 

“I — I’ll get the megaphone ready,” muttered 

65 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

Arnold. “Then we can talk to them from a safe 
distance.” 

“The safer the better,” agreed Toby. “I 
wouldn’t mind if we could talk to them by wire- 
less. What does it feel like to get a bullet in you, 
Arn?” 

“Don’t be a chump,” begged Arnold. “Just 
keep your head down and they can’t hit you.” 

“I’m going to,” answered the other dryly. “I’m 
thinking about putting it in the gasoline tank. 
Hello 1” 

The launch ahead lengthened slightly in the 
uncertain light. 

“She’s making in toward North Sea Harbor,” 
muttered Toby. “Now what’s the idea, I wonder. 
She can’t belong there. Maybe she’s just bluff- 
ing, though. No, she isn’t! She’s headed right 
in! And we’ve gained like anything, Arn! She 
sees that, I guess, and is going to quit — or make 
a fight for it! Call all hands, Arn, to man the 
guns!” 

Robins Island was off the Frolic* s port bow 
now, but instead of holding her course in the 
middle of the channel, the other launch had edged 
in toward the shore and was presently running 
straight along it, as though bent on dodging 
through the narrow harbor entrance a mile or 
66 



“We’ve gained like anything, Arn !” 

































+ 


































PURSUIT AND CAPTURE 


so beyond the point. There was no longer any 
doubt about it: the Frolic was gaining on the 
enemy hand over hand. Her engine was working 
like a charm, with never a skip, and for the past 
forty-five minutes had churned the water at better 
than a twelve-mile clip. Arnold, the megaphone 
in one hand and the oil can in the other, watched 
breathlessly. There were no shadows here to hide 
the launch ahead and the two boys exulted as the 
distance lessened between pursued and pursuer. 

“Now, if she’s making for the harbor she’ll 
have to turn,” muttered Toby, straining his gaze. 
“There she goes!” There was a doubtful mo- 
ment and then: “She’s headed out again. She 
missed it, Arn! See, there it is over there. I’ll 
bet those fellows don’t know this shore at all. 
Now, she’ll have to keep on, for there’s nothing 
beyond except a cove until we get to Noyack! 
And we’ll get them inside of ten minutes! Do 
you know what I think? I think they’re short of 
gas, Arn. You know they started out as if they 
meant to cut straight across to Johnstown or 
Franklinville or some place over there. That 
would have been only two or three miles. Instead 
we’ve chased them a good ten miles, and they’re 
getting short of gas. There ! She’s hitting it up a 
bit again ! Go it, Sal ! But we’ll get you long 
67 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


before you reach Jessup’s Neck. Only — only 
when we do what are we going to do with you?” 

“I wish my father was here,” murmured Ar- 
nold, “with his revolver!” 

“So do I! You don’t think we’d better turn 
around and beat it back before they get to pop- 
ping at us, do you?” 

Arnold hesitated. It seemed very much as 
though he wanted to say “Yes,” but he didn’t. 
Instead, he took a good deep breath and an- 
swered: “I’d rather see it through, Toby, if you 
aren’t scared.” 

Toby laughed shortly. “Oh, I’m scared, all 
right, but I’m with you, Arn. It would be a 
shame to come all this way and use up all that gas 
and then turn tail. No, we’ll try that bluff of 
yours, Arn. If we have to run we can do it. 
She’s slowing down again, isn’t she?” 

She was, very perceptibly. More than that, 
she had turned her nose straight for the shore ! 

“But there’s no water there!” exclaimed Toby. 

“They’re going to run her aground and 
escape !” cried Arnold. 

“Perhaps; but I guess we’ll slow down a little. 
I don’t want to get too near.” 

Arnold throttled the Frolic down to half-speed. 
The other launch worked cautiously in toward the 
68 


PURSUIT AND CAPTURE 


shore and floated quietly in the moonlight. It 
was easy enough now to make her out and to 
count her occupants. 

“Three of them,” whispered Toby, as the 
Frolic drew nearer and nearer. “Get your mega- 
phone, Arn, and hail them. Keep down, though. 
Slide her into neutral and be ready to start up 
again if they try to plug us.” 

Some three hundred feet of water separated the 
two launches as Arnold threw the clutch out. The 
Frolic slid slowly on to pass well astern of the 
other craft and Arnold raised the megaphone to 
his lips. 

“Launch, ahoy!” he shouted in his deepest 
tones. There was silence for an instant, and then 
the hail was answered: 

“Hello! What do you want?” floated across. 

“We want the stuff you stole from the house- 
boat. Hand it over and we’ll let you go. If you 
don’t, we’ll begin to fire!” 

Another silence, longer this time, and then the 
voice again: 

“Who are you, anyway?” 

“Never mind,” answered Arnold sternly. 
“There are six of us here and we’ve got you all 
covered.” 

“We don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

69 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


It was another voice this time, a deeper one. 
“You start shooting and you’ll get the worst of it, 
pardner! We never saw no houseboat.” 

“Pick out your men, fellows,” said Arnold in a 
loud aside, “and aim at their bodies.” Then, ad- 
dressing the launch again: “We’ll give you two 
minutes to get out of that boat and beat it. If 
you’re not on shore by that time we’ll fire on you. 
And any one of you taking anything ashore will 
get a bullet. Now, make up your minds, 
quick!” 

Toby left the wheel and scuttled astern, keep- 
ing out of sight. Once there he raised himself so 
that his head and shoulders showed above the 
gunwale. Then he hurried back to the bow and 
repeated the operation. He couldn’t be five men, 
he decided, but he could manage to look like two 
at least. Perhaps that ruse decided the matter, 
for, after a moment or two, during which the 
low voices of the three occupants of the other 
launch muttered and growled, the first speaker 
spoke again. 

“I guess you’ve got us,” he said quite cheer- 
fully, “but you wouldn’t have caught us in a thou- 
sand years if we hadn’t run out of gas.” Toby’s 
sigh of relief mingled with Arnold’s. “Can we 
run this tub on the beach so’s we can get off?” 

70 


PURSUIT AND CAPTURE 


Arnold hesitated and Toby prompted with a 
whispered “No.” 

“No, you can leave the launch where she is and 
hustle out of her.” 

“We can’t swim!” called a third voice. 

“Then drown,” answered Arnold gruffly. 
“Your time’s up. What’s it going to be?” 

The answer from the launch was profane but 
decisive. In substance it stated that they were 
going to get out and that they earnestly hoped 
the occupants of the white launch would meet with 
a vast amount of misfortune! 

“They’re taking some of the plunder with 
them,” whispered Toby, watching across the gun- 
wale. “Tell them to drop it, Arn!” 

“You heard what I said about taking stuff with 
you,” threatened Arnold, his voice doubtless 
sounding quite terrifying through the megaphone. 
“Drop it quick or we’ll nab the lot of you !” 

Mutters and some hesitation then, followed by a 
splash as one of the men dropped into the water. 
A second lowered himself very cautiously over the 
stern, which had swung around nearest to the 
shore, and the third, pausing long enough to voice 
his disapproval of the whole proceeding and of 
the pursuers especially, took a flying leap and cut 
through the water with long, businesslike strokes, 
71 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


passing his companions half-way to the beach and 
tossing them a grim jest as he left them 
astern. 

“It worked!” exulted Arnold, jubilantly, to 
Toby. 

“Great ! But give them time to get away from 
shore. That big fellow had something in his 
mouth, I think; the one who dropped over so 
mighty carefully. Bring her around, Arn, and be 
ready to take her in.” 

Arnold threw in the clutch, advanced the throttle 
and the Frolic swung slowly about in a wide circle, 
while Toby, his hands on the wheel but his eyes 
on the figures nearing the shore, watched cau- 
tiously. 

Along the steep and narrow beach ran a fringe 
of bushes and stunted trees, and when the three 
men were free of the water they drew together 
on the beach, seemed to confer for a moment, and 
then, shouting something unintelligible but doubt- 
less far from complimentary, made their way leis- 
urely out of sight between the bushes. 

“All right, now?” asked Arnold eagerly. 

“Wait,” advised Toby. “Pm certain one of 
them has a pistol, and for all we know may be 
drawing a bead on us from those bushes. I tell 
you what, Arn. Start her up and we’ll try to keep 
72 


PURSUIT AND CAPTURE 


their launch between us and them as we go in. But 
wait another minute.” 

“Shall we search the launch here or take her 
further out?” asked Arnold. 

“Get a line to her and tow her back with us, 
of course,” was the reply. “She’s contraband of 
war, or whatever you call it. I wouldn’t be sur- 
prised if they’d stolen her somewhere, anyway. 
Have you got a spare rope handy?” 

“No, but we can use our painter.” 

“All right. She may have one; she probably 
has. If not, we’ll use the Frolic’s. Do you sup- 
pose they’ve gone?” 

“Of course ! They were frightened to death.” 
Arnold laughed softly. “I must have sounded 
pretty fierce!” 

“You did! You sounded as if you were about 
six feet tall and weighed 200 pounds! Well, I 
suppose we might as well take a chance. If they’re 
still there, they’ll probably stay, and there’s no use 
trying to tire them out. All right. Start her 
easy. Here we go. Keep out of sight until we 
get to the launch, and then I’ll grab her.” 

“Better let me,” said Arnold. “You keep the 
wheel.” 

“All right, then; you grab her, and I’ll look 
for her painter.” 


73 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


The Frolic chugged slowly in toward the aban- 
doned launch, Toby doing his best to keep the 
latter between them and the place where the bur- 
glars had disappeared. 

“Way enough,” he whispered presently. “Let 
her run. Now, then, get her!” 

Arnold reached across the gunwale and seized 
the side of the other launch, and Toby, dropping 
the wheel, sprawled across the Frolic* s decking. 

“No line in sight,” he muttered, and with quick 
hands he took the Frolic* s neatly coiled painter, 
and slipped it over the cleat on the little forward 
deck. Then, squirming back, he started aft. As 
he did so a bullet sang overhead and the sound of 
the shot awoke the silence. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE STOLEN LAUNCH 




D 


UCK!” cried Arnold. 

But Toby had already dropped to 
the hatching, and Arnold, releasing 
his grasp of the smaller launch, tumbled down be- 
side him. Another shot rang out and somewhere 
overhead a second bullet sped whistling past. 

“Can you start her without showing your 
head?” gasped Toby. 

“Yes!” 

“Then do it, and I’ll take the side wheel. Look 
out for this line when she tightens. Let her go 1” 

Kneeling, his head still below the sides, Arnold 
grasped the lever and pulled it back, and the Frolic 
jumped away. Toby, crouched by the side wheel, 
frantically lashed the free end of the painter about 
the steering post. 

Bang! 

There was a sound of splintering wood, and 
then shouts from the shore. 

“Hit us somewhere!” panted Toby, tugging 

75 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


at the small wheel in his effort to swing the 
Frolic around. “Better lie flat, Ami” 

“Lie flat yourself, you silly fool! They’ll get 
you if you sit up like that!” 

Toby crouched lower. “This line’s choked 
around the wheel and I can hardly turn her,” he 
panted. “Is she coming, do you think?” 

“Isn’t your line taut?” 

“Yes, but ” 

Two more shots sounded above the noise of the 
engine. A bullet went harmlessly over the launch 
and another struck the hull somewhere with a thud. 
By this time the Frolic was doing her best and 
after a moment Toby sent a cautious glance be- 
hind. Even if the thieves had more cartridges, 
and Toby didn’t think they had, the distance was 
now too great for them. Behind the Frolic came 
the captured launch. 

“All right, Arn !” called Toby. “They couldn’t 
get us now with a siege gun! Take that wheel 
there while I change this line to the stern, will 
you ?” 

Arnold stood up, surveyed the receding beach 
and laughed gleefully as he took the wheel. 

“I guess we’re bad, Toby!” he exulted. “Talk 
about your revenue officers ! What’s the matter 
with us, eh?” 


76 


THE STOLEN LAUNCH 


Toby, fixing the towing line at the stern* 
laughed. “We’re a couple of marvelous bluffers, 
Arn ! Say, wouldn’t those chaps be peeved if they 
ever found out they’d been fooled by a couple of 
kids?” 

“Wouldn’t they? Say, I hope they do find it 
out some way. Do you know what I think, Toby? 
I think they thought we were just going to search 
their launch and leave her I And when they saw 
us putting the line on her they tumbled and got 
busy with that revolver. Well, we fooled them 
good and plenty!” 

“That’s what! Say, what time is it? It must 
be near midnight.” 

“Midnight! It’s only 9.27,” answered the 
other, holding his watch to the starboard lantern. 
“But doesn’t it seem later?” 

“I should say so ! Then if everything goes all 
right we ought to be home by ten-thirty. We’ll 
just hand this launch over to the Trainors and let 
them see what’s in her.” 

“You mean the houseboat folks? Well, but 
they don’t get the launch, do they?” 

“Not so you’d notice it,” answered Toby. 
“We’ll call around tomorrow and get it. And 
then we’ll see if anybody’s lost one. IF they 
haven’t, we’ll sell her, eh?” 

77 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Or keep her ourselves. She looks pretty good, 
doesn’t she?” Arnold peered back at the follow- 
ing launch. “Wonder what her name is?” 

“Maybe it’s painted out. She’s a jim-dandy 
little launch, all right, and that makes me think 
those fellows stole her. Look at the lines of her. 
She can’t be much over four feet wide. If she 
only had some gas in her tank we could get home 
a lot quicker, because one of us could get in and 
run her.” 

“It would be you, then,” replied Arnold 
promptly. “Is she holding us back much?” 

“I guess we’re doing about nine. That's fast 
enough. Only dad will give me the dickens when 
I get home I” 

“He won’t when you tell him what you’ve Been 
doing,” said the other encouragingly. 

“Won’t he?” Toby asked grimly. “You don’t 
know my dad!” 

The journey back was uneventful, which was 
just as well, since the two boys were surfeited 
with adventure for once, and a little bit tired as 
well. Sleepy they were not, and Arnold declared 
that he didn’t believe he would ever get to sleep 
before morning. But by the time Nobbs Island 
Light was showing well the conversation had be- 
gun to dwindle and Toby was yawning frankly. 

78 


THE STOLEN LAUNCH 


Ten o’clock struck over in Johnstown long be- 
fore the Head was reached, and it was fully a 
quarter past before the Frolic pointed her bow 
around the point and chugged past Arnold’s resi- 
dence on her way up the shore. “Give them your 
whistle,” said Toby as they ran cautiously toward 
the darkened houseboat. Arnold obeyed and the 
echoes threw back the alarming screech. “Once 
more,” Toby called, and again the shrill sound 
went forth. Then a dim light showed aboard the 
shadowy hulk and, as the Frolic slowed down, a 
voice hailed them. 

“What do you want?” inquired a sleepy voice. 

“We’ve got your things,” answered Arnold. 

“Got what? Oh! Well, all right ! Come on!” 
Voices sounded aboard, a light glimmered from a 
window, a lantern appeared on deck, and the 
houseboat awoke to activity as the launch sidled 
up to her. Two men, hastily attired, deluged the 
boys with questions. 

“We caught them over near North Sea Har- 
bor. They ran out of gas. We made them leave 
the launch and I guess everything’s in there. 
We’ll pull her up and you can have a look. If 
you don’t mind, we’ll leave her here until morning. 
Did they steal much?” 

“Not a great deal; just some blankets and a 

79 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


lot of provisions,” answered one of the men as 
Toby pulled the smaller launch up and handed the 
painter over. “At least, that’s all we’ve missed. 
We were on shore and got back before they’d 
had much of a chance, I suppose. My brother 
fired three shots at them, but it was too dark to 
see much.” 

“Just blankets and grub !” said Arnold disap- 
pointedly. “Gee, I thought they’d got away with 
your solid silver and jewels! Well, anyway, I 
guess you’ll find the stuff there all right. We’ll 
call for the launch in the morning.” 

“We’re very much obliged to you,” replied one 
of the men, raising the lantern and peering at the 
boys. “Who was with you?” 

“With us? No one.” 

“What! You mean that you two kids chased 
those chaps and made them give up the whole 
shooting match? Why, there were four or five 
of them, weren’t they?” 

“Three,” answered Toby, with a yawn. “They 
couldn’t see how many we had. Arn bluffed them 
finely.” 

“Well, what do you know about that?” gasped 
the other man. “Say, you chaps are wonders! 
What are your names?” 

Arnold told him, and just then a woman’s voice 
80 


THE STOLEN LAUNCH 


spoke from behind a darkened window. “Jim, 
dear, ask them if they wouldn’t like a cup of 
coffee or something. They must be tired 
out.” 

“No, ma’am; thanks,” replied Arnold. “We’re 
all right. Only sleepy. If you’ll look after their 
launch until morning ” 

“We will. And, I say, how about — er ” 

“Of course, Jack!” chimed in the woman. 
“They ought to have something. I’ll find my 
purse.” 

“No, thanks,” said Arnold, hurriedly. “We 
don’t want anything. We just did it for the 
fun of it. And — and we’ve got the launch, any- 
way. Toby thinks they stole it, and maybe the 
owner’s offered a reward. I’m glad we got your 
things back, ma’am.” 

“It was awfully brave of you. And I do think 
we ought to give you something besides just our 
thanks. Why, they might have hurt you !” 

“Yes’m,” said Toby. “They did try to. They 
fired at us, but they didn’t hit anything but the 
launch. Come on, Arn.” 

“Well, all right, fellows,” said the man called 
Jack. “It’s up to you. We’d be glad enough to 
slip you a fiver. If you won’t take that, why, you 
won’t. We’ll keep the launch safe for you. Much 
81 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


obliged to you both. See you in the morning. 
Good-night.” 

“Good-night,” replied Arnold, and “G’night,” 
muttered Toby, and the Frolic backed off and 
headed across the bay. 

“Blankets and grub!” said Arnold disappoint- 
edly when they were out of hearing. “Isn’t that 
the limit? No wonder those fellows were so 
willing to give them up !” 

“Where we fooled them,” said Toby, “was in 
taking their boat. Look here, Arn, supposing 
that launch is really theirs?” 

“But you said you thought they’d ” 

“Yes, and maybe they did. But supposing they 
didn’t? Then what?” 

“Then,” answered the other after a moment’s 
consideration, “they’ll have to come and get 
it!” 

“They’d be likely to!” jeered Toby. “I don’t 
see but what we may be thieves ourselves!” 

“Well, that isn’t bothering me much,” answered 
Arnold. “What is bothering me is that I’ve 
got to come all the way back from town 
alone.” 

“If you like you can leave the Frolic at the land- 
ing and I’ll take you back in’ the Turnover ” 

“No, I guess not. After chasing robbers and 
82 


THE STOLEN LAUNCH 


being fired at, I suppose I ought to have nerve 
enough to run a launch! Much obliged, just the 
same.” 

An hour later two very tired boys were fast 
asleep, and, although nearly three miles apart, 
their dreams were strangely similar! 

The next morning they were at the houseboat 
bright and early. In fact, the owners were still 
at breakfast on deck when the Turnover ranged 
alongside. 

Seen by daylight, the Trainers — Mr. and 
Mrs. Trainor and Brother Jim — were very 
nice, jolly-looking folks, and very hospitable 
folks, too, for they insisted on the boys joining 
them at breakfast, and wouldn’t take “No” for an 
answer. And so, although they didn’t actually sit 
at the table, which was a modest if well-laden 
affair, they did partake of strawberries and cream 
and some delicious hot rolls and some equally 
delicious coffee. And while they ate, Arnold, oc- 
casionally prompted by Toby, gave a detailed 
account of the pursuit and bloodless defeat of the 
thieves. Mrs. Trainor, who was small and pretty, 
applauded delightedly and quite forgot her break- 
fast, while her husband gravely arose and shook 
Arnold and Toby by the hands. 

“Boys,” he said. “You’re a brace of heroes! 

83 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

I take off my hat to you ! Or I will when I get 
it on!” 

Brother Jim echoed the sentiments, even if he 
didn’t stop eating for a moment. 

“And you chaps have got a real prize in that 
launch, too,” said Mr. Trainor, reseating himself 
at the little table. “She’s a wonder. I’ll give you 
five hundred for her any time you say the 
word.” 

Toby and Arnold stared at each other in 
amazed silence. Finally: “Five hundred!” stam- 
mered Toby. “You’re fooling, I guess!” 

“You take a look at her,” replied the man, nod- 
ding his head toward the shoreward side of the 
houseboat. “We tied her around there for safe- 
keeping. She’s somebody’s darling, that’s what 
she is !” 

The boys set down their plates and hurried 
around the deck. There, nestling against the rail 
of the houseboat, was as trim and pretty a speed 
launch as either had ever seen. Mr. Trainor, 
who had followed them, smiled at their amaze- 
ment. “I suppose you couldn’t see much of her 
last night,” he said. “Look at that engine, will 
you? A six-cylinder Thurston and as light as 
a feather! If that launch can’t do her twenty- 
two or three miles I’m a goat! See the way she’s 
84 


THE STOLEN LAUNCH 


cut down aft, eh? Some lines, boys! And just 
cast your eyes over her fittings, will you? Every- 
thing A- 1, and just about as complete as they 
make them. Why, some one paid a good round 
thousand for that little sixteen feet of boat ! She’s 
dirty and her brass is tarnished, and some idiot 
has daubed a coat of gray paint over a dandy 
mahogany hull, but she’s a peach, just the same, 
and it’s dollars to doughtnuts that those thieving 
rascals never owned her in their lives. They 
swiped her somewhere around here, I’ll bet, and 
I guess you’ve only to read the papers to find her 
owner. When you do find him, fellows, you make 
him hand over some real money.” 

“Gee, she’s sweet, ain’t she?” murmured Toby. 

“A beauty!” agreed Arnold, in awe. 

“I guess some one will claim her, all right,” 
mourned Toby. 

And Mr. Trainor laughed. 

“That’s the way I felt when I saw her, son. I 
wanted awfully to hide her some place where you 
couldn’t find her! If you shouldn’t hear from 
the owner, and you want to sell her, why, my offer 
stands for all time.” 

“If she was really mine,” said Toby, sim- 
ply, “I wouldn’t sell her for anything, Mr. 
Trainor!” 


85 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Tucker, you have the soul of an artist!” re- 
plied the man, patting him on the shoulder. 
“Those are my sentiments exactly.” 

“She — she’d be pretty unsteady, though, 
wouldn’t she?” asked Arnold. “She isn’t very 
wide across.” 

“Well, she isn’t meant for rough seas, Deering. 
She’s a racer, pure and simple, and I’ll wager any- 
thing she’s won more than once. Still, maybe not, 
for she can’t have been built more than a year. 
Everything looks too new. Question now is, what 
are you going to do with her, boys? If we had 
some gasoline we might try her out.” 

But Toby shook his head. “I’d rather not do 
that, sir. I — I’d be afraid I wouldn’t ever want 
to give her up again !” 

“By Jove, I believe you’re right! You’d better 
tow her home with you. If you leave her around 
here I might steal her. She’d be a constant temp- 
tation to dishonesty! Take her away! Take her 
away!” 

Mr. Trainor gestured dramatically. 

“I’ll pull her around and get the line to the 
launch,” said Toby soberly. “Wasn’t it a shame 
to smear that old gray paint on her, sir? Will 
it ever come off again all right?” 

“Oh, yes, a painter can take that off. She’d 

86 


THE STOLEN LAUNCH 


have to be revarnished, of course. I tried to see 
her name under the paint, but couldn’t.” 

Presently the boys said good-by to their hosts, 
receiving three very hearty invitations to come 
again, and, with the stolen launch swaying grace- 
fully behind the Turnover , set off for Green- 
haven. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE HIDDEN NAME 

OBY was very silent, but the fact that he 



spent most of his time looking back at 


the tow indicated where his thoughts 


were. Arnold, less affected by the beauty of the 
speed launch, was eager to get the morning pa- 
pers and see whether she was advertised. 

“How much reward do you suppose we ought 
to ask, Toby?” he inquired. Toby shook his 
head. 

“A hundred anyway, eh?” continued Arnold. 
“Maybe there’s a sum offered. I know if I’d lost 
a boat like that I’d be glad to pay almost any- 
thing for her 1” 

“If she’s stolen property, though,” replied 
Toby finally, “the owner wouldn’t really have to 
pay any reward; unless he wanted to, I mean.” 

“He will want to, you bet ! Where’ll we take 
her? To your wharf?” 

“Yes, I think so. If we leave her at the town 
landing some one will be messing around her 


88 


THE HIDDEN NAME 


all the time. She can berth where I keep the 
Turnover . This old tub” — Toby ran a disparag- 
ing eye over his launch — “can stay out In the har- 
bor.” 

Once ashore, the two boys hurried up the street 
and bought a copy of every morning paper that 
the news store had. Then they scuttled back to 
the boat yard, perched themselves in the lee of a 
dismantled sloop, and began a systematic search 
of the various “Lost and Found” columns. As 
each paper was laid aside without results Toby 
heaved a sigh of relief and Arnold one of disap- 
pointment. When the last paper had been perused 
Arnold observed his chum blankly. 

“Not in any of those,” he said, regretfully. 
“Gee, that’s mean, isn’t it?” 

Toby nodded silently. After a moment he said, 
“I suppose you — you wouldn’t want to keep hfcr 
if — if we didn’t find an owner, Arn?” 

“Why, no, I don’t think so. Would you? She 
wouldn’t do for rough weather, you know. Mr. 
Trainor said so. I’d be scared to death to go out 
of the harbor in her. If we don’t find her owner 
it would be great to sell her to Mr. Trainor, I 
think.” 

Toby nodded again, but with no enthusiasm. 
“I suppose it would be silly for us to keep her,” he 
89 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


said, “only — only she’s the most beautiful launch 
I ever saw, Arn.” 

“Yes, she’s a beauty, all right, but what would 
we do with her? She’d cost money, too.” After 
a moment’s silence he said: “Look here, Toby, 
maybe she was stolen a long while ago and they’ve 
stopped advertising for her. Maybe if we looked 
through some old papers we’d come across some- 
thing.” 

“Where would we find the old papers, though?” 

“A library would have them. Is there a library 
here?” 

“No, but there’s one in Johnstown. What we 
ought to do, I guess, is put an advertisement in 
ourselves, Arn.” 

“That’s so! I never thought of that! Let’s 
go and write one.” 

“All right.” Toby gathered the discarded pa- 
pers and arose. “You do it, though. I — I haven’t 
got any heart for it!” 

But that advertisement was never written, for 
on the way past the shed Toby thought of his 
father, and Mr. Tucker was invited to view the 
prize. 

“That’s a nice little boat, Tobe,” said Mr. 
Tucker, as he looked down on her from the wharf. 
“Made for quiet waters. Who built her?” 

90 


THE HIDDEN NAME 


“I don’t know, sir,” answered Toby. 

“That means you didn’t look,” replied his fa- 
ther, descending the ladder and jumping into the 
launch. “There’ll be a maker’s plate on her some- 
where, unless it’s been ripped off.” He went for- 
ward and peered amongst the instruments there, 
and presently gave a grunt of satisfaction. “Here 
it is. ‘Built by Wells-Stotesbury Company, Moor- 
cett, Conn.’ Now, what’s her name, Tobe? Oh, 
they painted that out, did they? Run up to the 
paint closet and get that can of paint-remover and 
a handful of waste.” 

A few minutes later the gray paint began to 
dissolve from a patch on the slanting stern and 
her name appeared letter by letter, faint, but legi- 
ble. “Ollow M ” read Toby. “That’s a queer 
name.” 

“You wait a bit,” advised Mr. Tucker, and 
extended his operations with the evil-smelling con- 
coction in the can. “There it is,” he said at last. 
“Follow Me. Now, all you’ve got to do is write 
to the builders and ask who she belongs to. Where 
was your gumption, Tobe?” 

Toby shook his head sadly, but whether the 
sadness was caused by an appreciation of his la- 
mentable lack of gumption or by something else 
didn’t appear. At the boys’ request Mr. Tucker 
91 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


indited a letter at the littered desk in one corner 
of the boat shed and they bore it to the postoffice. 
Toby watched it disappear through the letter slot 
with emotions of despair! He spent all the rest 
of the day, to Arnold’s disgust, in shining the brass 
on the Follow Me and cleaning her up, and Ar- 
nold, after toiling with him until noon, went off 
in something very like a huff and didn’t come 
back that day. Probably Toby missed him, but 
he didn’t seem unhappy. He rubbed and scrubbed 
until supper time, whistling a tune all the while, 
and when Phebe, sent to fetch him, exclaimed ad- 
miringly as she viewed the glistening brass and 
immaculate varnish, Toby was fully rewarded. 
After supper Phebe helped him stretch a tarpaulin 
over the Follow Me and sympathetically listened 
to Toby’s enraptured comments on her and agreed 
with them all. 

“Perhaps,” she said, hopefully, as they made 
their way across the boat yard in the twilight, 
“some day you’ll have one just like her.” 

But Toby sighed and shook his head. “Prob- 
ably when that time came I wouldn’t want it so 
much,” he said. 

“Oh, I meant real soon,” said Phebe cheer- 
fully. 

“If I had enough money to buy me a launch 
92 


THE HIDDEN NAME 


like that soon, I wouldn’t buy it,” replied her 
brother. “I’d rather go to boarding school.” 

Mr. Tucker had assured them they couldn’t 
count on hearing from the launch builders until 
the second day after they had written, and so 
Arnold took up the task of forming the Spanish 
Head Baseball Club where he had left off and was 
able the next morning to inform Toby that the 
“Spaniards” were ready for the fray. But Toby 
hadn’t made any such progress and reported that 
he was still shy two players, even if he provided 
no substitutes. Arnold was severe with him. 

“You haven’t been trying,” he charged. 
“You’ve been monkeying around that silly launch. 
You needn’t say you haven’t, for I know you 
have. He has, hasn’t he, Phebe? Besides, look 
at your hands all grimed with paint or some- 
thing.” 

Toby obediently observed his hands, and made 
a grimace. “They’re as sore as anything. I got 
some of that paint-remover stuff on them, and dad 
says I oughtn’t to have. He says maybe the skin 
will all be gone by tomorrow 1” 

“That’s lye,” said Arnold. 

“What?” Toby stared. “You’d better not let 
dad hear you say so!” 

“Say what?” asked Arnold, in puzzlement, 

93 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


while Phebe laughed and Mr. Murphy chimed in 
with his absurd chuckle and then hung by his beak 
from the end of the perch. 

“Say what he said was a lie,” answered Toby. 

“I didn’t!” 

“What did you say, then? Didn’t you 
say ?” 

“He said the paint-remover was lye,” gurgled 
Phebe. “L-y-e, lye ; and so it is, and it’s no wonder 
your hands are sore. I should think they would 
be.” 

“Ought to be, too,” grumbled Arnold. “Mess- 
ing around that boat all day long ! When are you 
going to get that nine together, I’d like to know?” 

Toby looked penitent, and then, having at- 
tempted to put his hands in his pockets with pain- 
ful results, annoyed. “I’ll find the rest of the 
fellows today,” he answered. “There’s lots of 
time.” Then he recovered his good humor and 
smiled. “Besides, we can beat you fellows with 
six men any day!” 

Arnold jeered. “Yes, you can I We’ll make 
you Towners look like a lot of pikers when we get 
at you! You’d better come and see that game, 
Phebe. It’s going to be some slaughter!” 

“Yes, we’re going to treat you the way Admiral 
Dewey treated those other Spaniards,” laughed 
94 


THE HIDDEN NAME 


Toby. “You may fire when ready, Gridley!” 

“I’m not worrying. Aren’t you fellows going 
to practice any before you play us?” 

“Oh, we might get together Tuesday. We 
■don’t want to be too good, you know.” 

“Don’t be silly, Toby,” advised his sister. “You 
ought to get the boys together and practice a lot. 
You know very well that you won’t be able to play 
a bit well if you don’t. Why, Arnold says they’re 
going to practice every day.” 

“Of course, they’ll need to,” answered Toby 
calmly. “Anyway, we can’t practice until we get 
a team, and we’ve only got six so far. How’d you 
like to play with us, Phebe?” 

“Love to !” laughed Phebe. “But I’m afraid 
I’d get sort of dirty sliding to bases.” 

“Who’ll we get to umpire?” asked Arnold. 

“Mr. Murphy,” suggested Toby. “He’s quite 
impartial, aren’t you, you old rascal?” 

The parrot blinked thoughtfully and sidled 
along his perch. Then he shrieked. “All hands, 
stand by!” at the top of his raucous voice and 
chuckled wickedly when Phebe put her hands to 
her ears. 

“There’s Mr. Gould,” said Toby. “He um- 
pired for us this spring. Only I don’t know if he 
could leave his store on a Wednesday.” 

95 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“I was thinking that maybe Mr. Trainor would 
do it for us,” said Arnold. “I mean the youngest 
one.” 

“Brother Jim?” Toby nodded. “He’d be all 
right. We might ask him. I guess he could do 
it, eh?” 

“Yes. I asked Frank about him and the others, 
you know, and Frank said Mr. Trainor, the one 
that’s married to Mrs. Trainor, is a great swell. 
He’s crazy for me to take him over there and 
introduce him. He says the brother goes to Yale 
and played on the varsity nine this spring. They 
come from Philadelphia.” 

“I wouldn’t hold that against him,” replied 
Toby gravely, “if he did a good job and gave 
the Towners all the close decisions. Let’s go over 
and ask him now.” 

Arnold agreed on the condition that Toby was 
to come right back to town and look up the rest 
of the members for his team, and so they all three 
chugged around to the houseboat in the Frolic , 
were warmly welcomed and obtained Brother 
Jim’s consent to act as umpire. “I’ve never tried 
it,” he said, “but I’ll do my best for you. I warn 
you right now, though, that if I’m struck with 
anything heavier than a bat I’ll throw up the 
job!” 


96 


THE HIDDEN NAME 


Toby told of the discovery of the name and 
makers of the stolen launch and Mr. Trainor 
sighed sympathetically. “I guess you’ll have to 
give her up, Tucker. Unless — I say, here’s an 
idea ! How would it do if I went over to your 
wharf some dark night and took her away? We’d 
go halves on her and — but, there, I forgot. Deer- 
ing’s part owner, isn’t he? We might buy him 
off, though ; pay him hush money. Think it over, 
Tucker!” 

Mrs. Trainor took greatly to Phebe and showed 
her through the houseboat while the others were 
talking on deck. Then they embarked again 
and went back to town, and Toby set off, with no 
great gusto, to complete the roster of his nine, 
Arnold consenting to remain for dinner. 

Toby returned warm but triumphant at a little 
after twelve and announced that he had filled the 
vacant positions. “I’ve got ten fellows alto- 
gether,” he said, “and it’s going to be mighty hard 
to decide which is the tenth ! I guess we’ll have to 
draw lots to see which one of us is the substitute. 
We’re going to practice tomorrow, if enough 
fellows can get off. I guess that’s where you’ll 
have the best of us, Arn. You can practice any 
time you like.” 

“Well, you said you didn’t need to practice.” 

97 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Maybe an hour or so wouldn’t hurt. There 
wasn’t any letter from those folks, was there, 
Phebe?” 

“No. You know father said it couldn’t come 
before tomorrow, Toby. Arnold and I have 
talked it all over. You’re to stand out for two 
hundred dollars reward, Toby, and Arnold’s go- 
ing to put his share into a sailboat, and he’s going 
to have father build it for him!” 

“And then I’m going to get you to show me how 
to sail her,” added Arnold. 

“Get Phebe,” was the reply. “She can sail a 
boat as well as I can. I guess, though, the fellow 
who lost that launch isn’t going to pay any two 
hundred dollars to us.” 

“You can’t tell,” said Phebe. “She’s worth lots 
more than that. Father said he wouldn’t build 
her hull for less than four hundred dollars, and 
that the engine ” 

“What would you do with your share if we 
did get that much?” asked Arnold. 

Toby shook his head. “I’d — I don’t know,” 
he acknowledged. “But I guess I could find a use 
for it!” 

The next morning Toby dashed out of the house 
at a little after eight, pulling his hat on as he ran, 
and hurried to the nearest telephone. Over at the 
98 


THE HIDDEN NAME 


Head, Arnold listened to a confused message and 
then, slamming the receiver on the hook, bolted 
down to the landing and took a flying leap into the 
Frolic. 


CHAPTER IX 


“three hundred dollars reward!” 

T OBY and Phebe awaited him at the boat- 
yard wharf and as soon as he had hastily 
secured the Frolic to the stern of the 
Follow Me and climbed the ladder they pulled 
him in triumph to the shed. 

“Here he is, dad!” called Toby. “Where 
is it?” 

Mr. Tucker laid down his mallet and led the 
way to the desk very leisurely. Then, while Toby 
and Phebe looked on with shining eyes, he placed 
an envelope in Arnold’s hand. The postmark was 
“Moorcett, Ct.,” and there was some printing in 
one corner, but Arnold didn’t stop to read that. 
Instead, amidst a deep silence, he opened the en- 
velope and drew forth not the folded sheet of 
paper he expected but a roughly torn section of 
newspaper. He viewed the others in bewilder- 
ment. 

“Read it!” cried Toby and Phebe in chorus. 

“ ‘Lost, on Fifth Avenue, between ’ ” 


ioo 


“THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS 1 


“No, no! Further down!” said Toby impa- 
tiently. 

“Oh, further down! ‘Three hundred dollars 
reward will be paid for the return of mahogany 

launch Follow Me ’ ” Arnold gasped and 

went back to the beginning again. “Three hun- 
dred dollars’ — Gee!” 

“Isn’t that corking?” demanded Toby, glee- 
fully. 

“Just think of it!” exclaimed Phebe, dancing 
on her toes amidst the shavings. “Three hundred 
dollars, Arnold!” 

“But — but are you sure this is the — the ” 

“Read the whole of it, Arn!” prompted Toby, 
trying to see over his shoulder. “Read it 
aloud!” 

“ ‘Three hundred dollars reward will be paid 
for the return of mahogany launch Follow Me f 
stolen from my landing at Hastings, N. Y., night 
of April 27, and no questions asked. Built by 
Wells & Stotesbury, sixteen feet long, four feet 
four inches beam, engine six-cylinder Thurston, 
brass trimmed, name on stern, but possibly painted 
out. Communicate with Paul Langham Town- 
send, Hastings-on-Hudson, or Eastern Launch 
Club, New York City.’ 

“What do you know about that!” gasped 
101 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


Arnold, and the piece of paper slipped from his 
fingers to the littered floor. 

“You boys are in luck,” said Mr. Tucker. 
“Not that you don’t deserve it, though; for you 
do. Now we’ll write to this man Townsend and 
tell him to come and get her.” 

“How long will that take?” asked Arnold 
eagerly. 

Mr. Tucker laughed. “Well, we’ll write this 
minute, and I guess he’d ought to get it this after- 
noon. Then, if he’s as anxious as you are, Arnold, 
he’s likely to be around pretty early tomorrow.” 

“Yes, sir! And — and could you say, ‘Bring 
reward with you,’ or something like that?” 

“I guess he’ll have a checkbook handy,” replied 
Mr. Tucker. “Now, the question is where’ll we 
send the letter to? New York or Hastings?” 

“Hastings, dad,” advised Toby. “He mightn’t 
be at that club today.” 

“That’s so. All right. Elbow room, Phebe! 
Where’s that pesky pen got to? Oh, here it is. 
I wonder if there’s a piece of paper here. You 

don’t happen to see Oh, thanks, daughter. 

Now, then! ‘Mr. Paul ’ What’s the middle 

part of it, Toby?” 

“Paul Langham Townsend.” 

“An awful lot of name, ’pears to me. ‘Mr. 

102 


“THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS” 


Paul Langham Townsend, Hastings-on-Hudson, 
N. Y. Dear sir: This is to inform you that your 
launch the Follow Me is at Tucker’s boat yard, 
Greenhaven, L. I., and same can be had by calling 

and paying reward advertised in the ’ Hold 

on! What paper’s that now?” 

“You can’t tell, sir,” said Arnold. “Better just 
say ‘in paper.’ ” 

“All right. Got to scratch out ‘the’ though. 
‘Reward advertised in paper. Respectfully yours, 
Aaron Tucker.’ There we are. Now where’s an 
envelope?” 

They dropped the letter in the postoffice at 
twenty minutes after nine, just in time for the 
collection, and spent the succeeding half-hour 
figuring how long it would take Uncle Sam to get 
it across to New York and then up the Hudson to 
Hastings. Arnold said they had been silly not to 
telephone Mr. Townsend instead of writing to 
him. “Then maybe he’d have come over here this 
afternoon,” he added. 

“It would cost a lot to telephone away up 
there,” objected Toby. 

“A lot! Shucks; it wouldn’t have been more 
than a dollar, I guess ! And what’s a dollar when 
you’re going to get three hundred?” 

“A dollar would be a lot if something hap- 
103 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


pened and we didn’t get the three hundred,” re- 
plied Toby. “That launch was stolen a long while 
ago — over two months ago now — and maybe he’s 
given her up and has had another one built. If 
he has he wouldn’t want the Follow Me, I guess.” 
Toby’s voice sounded almost hopeful at the end, 
and Arnold observed him in surprise. 

“Toby, I really believe you’d rather have that 
launch than the reward!” he exclaimed. 

Toby’s gaze wandered. “I — I don’t know,” he 
murmured. “She’s an awfully nice little boat!” 

“But — but think of a hundred and fifty dollars 1 
Why, you can — you can do almost anything with 
a hundred and fifty dollars, Toby!” 

“I know. It’s a lot of money. I’m not saying 

it wouldn’t be fine to have it, but ” his voice 

dwindled away. Arnold looked incredulously at 
Phebe as he held the gate open. “Anyway,” con- 
tinued Toby, “I’ll wait until I get my hands on it 
before I think too much about it!” 

Practice was not a great success that afternoon. 
In the first place, the older boys of the town were 
using the school diamond and Toby’s team had 
to do the best they could in a distant corner of the 
field; in the second place only eight of the ten 
members showed up, and in the third place Toby’s 
mind wandered so far from baseball that his com- 
104 


“THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS” 


panions grew sarcastic and told him frankly that 
if he didn’t pay more attention to the matter in 
hand they’d quit. Add these drawbacks to the 
fact that there was a scarcity of gloves and bats, 
and that the only mask they possessed had a loose 
wire that threatened to put the wearer’s eye out 
every minute, and it will be seen that the Towners 
labored under disadvantages that Saturday after- 
noon! 

Arnold, although cordially invited to attend the 
rival aggregation’s practice, had declined, stating 
his reason to be that he didn’t want to learn the 
Towners’ signals! Consequently Toby saw no 
more of him until the next day. When the Tucker 
family got back from church that noon they found 
Arnold sitting on the front steps and holding a 
rather one-sided conversation through the open 
window with Mr. Murphy. “I’ve been trying to 
teach him to say, ‘Arnold,’ ” he explained, “but 
he just stares and chuckles. I’m going to have 
dinner with you, if you’ll ask me, Mrs. Tucker.” 

“Indeed I will, then ! Come right in out of the 
hot sun, Arnold. You might have gone in the 
back door and been comfortable. We never lock 
it from one year’s end to the other.” 

“Heard anything yet?” whispered Arnold to 
Toby as Mr. Tucker unlocked the door. 

105 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Not exactly. Last night they sent for dad to 
go to the drug store. They said he was wanted 
on the telephone. But either he couldn’t under- 
stand, or the wires were bad, or something. He 
came stamping back as mad as anything. But 
they told him it was New York calling, and so I 
wouldn’t be surprised if it was he.” 

“Must have been ! I wish we knew whether he 
was coming today or not. When is the next train, 
Toby?” 

“Gets to Riverport at 3.12. Then it takes 
about half an hour to drive over. So he couldn’t 
get here much before 3.45. Seems to me if he 
was coming he’d have come this morning. 1 tried 
to get dad to let me stay home from church, in 
case he did, but he wouldn’t see it.” 

“You don’t suppose he’s been and gone away 
again?” gasped Arnold. “You don’t suppose he 
— you don’t suppose he’s taken the launch?” 

“Of course not! He wouldn’t do that, 
and ” 

But Arnold had flown down the steps and across 
the road and was already hiking through the 
boat yard ! He returned presently, perspiring and 
panting, but vastly relieved, to report the prize 
still there. The boys, and Phebe too, for that 
matter — and perhaps the older folks in spite of 
106 


THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS’ 


their unnatural calm — were too excited to do jus- 
tice to Mrs. Tucker’s very hearty Sunday dinner. 
Arnold kept glancing at the old mahogany-framed 
clock on the mantel, while Toby, although he tried 
not to appear impatient, turned his head toward 
the window every time footsteps or carriage 
wheels sounded in the road below. 

But when Toby had proclaimed a quarter to 
four as the earliest possible moment at which Paul 
Langham Townsend could reach Greenhaven, fie 
had failed to take into account that magic chariot, 
the automobile, and so when, just as Mrs. Tucker 
was serving one of her biggest and juiciest rhubarfi 
pies, a big, dust-covered car came to a stop at the 
gate, no one was prepared for it. 

Less than an hour later the Follow Me was out 
of sight around Spanish Head, the dust-covered 
car was gone again, and Toby and Arnold and 
Phebe were staring awedly at a marvelous slip of 
blue paper, which bore the legend: “Pay to the 
order of Tobias Tucker and Arnold Deering 
Three Hundred Dollars l” 

That little piece of paper looked far too tiny to 
mean what it said! 

“It’s a pile of money, isn’t it?” muttered Toby 
thoughtfully. “But he seemed awfully glad to get 
his launch back.” 


107 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“He’d have paid more than this, I guess,” re- 
sponded Arnold. “I dare say he’d have given us 
five hundred if we’d said we had to have it!” 

“Why, you’re a regular Shylock, Arnold!” ex- 
claimed Phebe. 

“I’m not either,” answered the accused indig- 
nantly. “But we had a right to ask more if we’d 
wanted to. That’s business.” 

“I don’t think it’s business,” said Toby quietly, 
“to make money from people’s misfortunes. I 
sort of wish we’d just let him have his boat and not 
said anything about the reward.” 

“That’s nonsense,” replied Arnold vigorously. 
“Mr. Townsend has lots of money and it was 
worth three hundred dollars to him to have his 
launch back. And if it hadn’t been for us he 
wouldn’t have got it again. He’s satisfied, Toby. 
Don’t you worry.” 

“What’ll we do with this?” asked Toby. “We 
have to put it into a bank or something, eh?” 

“Of course. I’ll get father to cash it, if you 
like. Then we’ll each take half. We have to sign 
our names on the back, though. Let’s do it now. 
You sign first, because he put you first.” 

But Mr. Tucker, overhearing from the window, 
vetoed that plan. “You boys had better give that 
check to me now,” he said. “Tomorrow’s plenty 
108 


THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS 1 


of time for indorsing it. Remember this is the 
Lord’s day, Toby.” 

So they yielded up the fascinating slip of en- 
graved paper, but that didn’t stop them from talk- 
ing about it or discussing their plans, although, to 
be exact, it was Arnold only who dwelt on the 
matter of expenditure. “I am going to have your 
father build me a twenty-one-footer, Toby, like 
the Sea Snail he built for Mr. Cushing. She’s a 
dandy! I suppose it would cost more than a hun- 
dred and fifty dollars, but father said yesterday 
he’d help me pay for it. Then you’re going to 
show me how to sail it.” 

“Mr. Cushing’s Sea Snail is a knockabout,” said 
Toby. “Wouldn’t you rather have a boat with a 
cabin house?” 

“It would cost a lot more, Toby. No, I don’t 
think so. I guess father wouldn’t let me do any 
cruising, and just for sailing around here a boat 
like the Sea Snail would be fine. Maybe next year 
I’ll have the Frolic housed in forward. I could, 
you know. It wouldn’t be any trick at all. I sup- 
pose your father wouldn’t like me to ask him about 
the boat today?” 

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” This from Phebe, and 
very decidedly. “He never likes to talk business on 
Sunday. You’d better wait until tomorrow.” 

I0 9 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“All right. Say, Toby, you haven’t said what 
you’re going to do with your half of the money. 
You could fix up the Turnover and get a new 
engine for her, if you wanted to.” 

But Toby shook his head. “I haven’t decided 
— yet,” he answered slowly, “but I think I’ll just 
— just keep it.” 

“Now who’s the Shylock?” demanded Arnold 
triumphantly. 

“That’s very different,” said Phebe. “That’s 
just being saving.” 

“I don’t mean that I’m going to keep it for- 
ever,” explained Toby defensively. “But I’m go- 
ing to keep it until I find out what I really want 
to spend it for. If you put money in a bank they’ll 
pay you interest, won’t they?” 

“Yes, but you won’t get much on a hundred and 
fifty dollars,” replied Arnold carelessly. “They 
pay three or four per cent., and that would only 
be about five or six dollars a year.” 

“Six dollars a year,” remarked Toby thought- 
fully, “would be a dollar and a half for three 
months, wouldn’t it? Well, a dollar and a half 
will take you fifty miles on the railroad.” 

“But who wants to go fifty miles on an old rail- 
road?” asked Arnold. 

“Well, I was thinking I might. Would you 
no 


“THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS” 


mind asking your father to take my hundred and 
fifty and put it in a bank for me? He’d be likely 
to know of one that was perfectly safe, wouldn’t 
he?” 

“Sure ! He knows dozens of banks. Why, he 
has accounts in two or three himself!” 

“Then you might ask him to pick out the one 
he knows best,” said Toby anxiously. “I wouldn’t 
want to lose that money !” 


CHAPTER X 


TOBY BLOCKS THE PLATE 

T HE baseball game between the Towners 
and the Spanish Head boys came off on 
the following Wednesday, strictly ac- 
cording to schedule. By that time Toby and Ar- 
nold had somewhat recovered from the ex- 
citement incident to coming into possession of 
so much money and were able to give their 
minds to the event. Toby was the satisfied 
owner of a passbook on a New York bank 
which showed him to have on deposit the sum of 
one hundred and fifty dollars, subject to interest 
at four per cent., while Arnold had that morning 
witnessed the laying of the keel of his knockabout 
in Mr. Tucker’s shed. Of the two, perhaps it was 
Toby who was able to give the most thought to 
playing ball that afternoon. 

Long before the contest began it became evi- 
dent that they were not to lack an audience. 
Mothers, brothers, sisters, and friends of the 
Spanish Head fellows came to the number of 
nearly one hundred, and the road along the field 
1 1 2 


TOBY BLOCKS THE PLATE 


was well lined with automobiles and traps. The 
townsfolk turned out in far fewer numbers, but 
some of them came, among them Phebe, looking 
very pretty in a new muslin dress and accompanied 
by two girl friends. The accommodations for 
spectators being limited to one small tier of seats, 
the visitors from the Head watched the game 
from their carriages and cars. Mr. Trainor, ap- 
propriately attired in an ancient Yale sweater, offi- 
ciated to every one’s satisfaction and got, as it ap- 
peared, a whole lot of fun out of his job ! 

There was a marked contrast between the rival 
nines when, at a few minutes past three, they faced 
each other on the somewhat dusty field of battle. 
The “Spaniards” to a boy wore uniforms, and 
although only two of their number were dressed 
alike — the two being Arnold and Frank Lamson 
in Yardley Hall attire, — they presented a rather 
more neat and pleasing appearance than their op- 
ponents. Of the Towners fully a third met the 
demands of the occasion by removing their coats, 
rolling up their sleeves and turning up their trou- 
sers, another third compromised by wearing por- 
tions of uniforms, and the rest were appropriately 
attired in baseball togs of a sort. Toby, I regret 
to say, was of the second class, appearing in a 
grammar school shirt and his everyday khaki trou- 
1 13 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


sers. He had fully intended dressing the lower 
portion of him in baseball pants and blue stockings, 
but the search for the stockings had been only 
half successful. That is, he had found only one 
of the pair. The idea of presenting himself before 
the public with one bare leg had occurred to him, 
but had not appealed. 

All being in readiness, and one of six new balls 
philanthropically supplied by the umpire having 
been shorn of its tissue and glistening foil, Frank 
Lamson walked to the pitcher’s box, his team 
mates arranged themselves over the field, and Mr. 
William Conners, better known as Billy, stepped 
to the plate. And after Frank Lamson had 
whizzed a few balls across by way of warming-up 
and George Dodson had pegged the last in the 
general direction of second base, and Arnold 
Deering and Hal Mason had sprinted half-way to 
center field to get it, Mr. Trainor called “Play 
ball!” in a very umpirical voice. And, lest you 
look for that word “umpirical” in the dictionary, 
I’ll tell you right now that you won’t find it. I 
just made it up ! 

I have no intention of following that very nota- 
ble contest inning by inning. You’d find it tire- 
some, and so would I. Besides, only four of the 
nine sessions supplied real interest. The others 

114 


TOBY BLOCKS THE PLATE 


often supplied runs and errors — plenty of errors 
— but no great excitement. The Spanish Head 
contingent of spectators were well-bred enough to 
only smile discreetly at the sight of “Tubby” 
Knowles sliding to second base in that first inning, 
but I’m certain that they really wanted to laugh 
outright. Tubby was, as his nickname suggests, 
rotund, and he wore a pair of trousers of an in- 
teresting black and brown plaid that were very 
much too large for him around the waist and al- 
most as much too long for him in the legs. Pic- 
ture Tubby, then, when, having reached first by 
an error, subsequent to Billy Conners’s retirement, 
he saw his chance to win glory and another base 
by a steal. Tubby’s run was a series of convul- 
sions in which every portion of his anatomy took 
part. It wasn’t a fast performance, but it was 
earnest and whole-hearted — and whole-bodied! 
Tubby’s strange plaid-attired limbs fairly twinkled 
along the path, Tubby’s mouth opened itself wide, 
Tubby’s eyes fixed themselves almost agonizingly 
on the middle sack, and Tubby stole ! 

Down sped the ball from Dodson’s hand. 
Arnold blocked the bag. Tubby threw his hun- 
dred and forty pounds of body recklessly forward 
— and confusion ensued! Over and over rolled 
Tubby, in the manner and with all the grace of a 
ll S 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


rolling barrel. Plaid trousers filled the air for an 
instant; plaid trousers and dust together, that rs. 
And then Mr. Trainor, trotting up, spread his 
hands and cried “Safe!” very loudly indeed, but 
with a strange break in the middle of it, and 
Arnold gazed as one stricken with bewilderment 
while Tubby, breathing loudly, pulled himself to 
the bag and sat upon it in triumph ! 

I’m not accusing Mr. Trainor of partiality or 
blindness or any other fault undesirable in an 
umpire, but it did look as though that ball met 
one of Tubby’s wildly waving legs before Tubby 
reached his goal. Still, Mr. Trainor was where 
he could see! And Mr. Trainor had a nice sense 
of justice ! And, out or not out, Tubby certainly 
deserved that base! 

And yet, in spite of Tubby Knowles’s heroic 
act, the Towners failed to score in their half of 
the first. Tubby got no farther than that hard- 
won second sack, for Tony George struck out mis- 
erably and Gus Whelan only popped a weak fly to 
shortstop. Nor, for that matter, could the Span- 
iards do any better. Tim Chrystal’s slants were 
by no means crystal when it came to seeing through 
them, and both Tracey Gay, who led off for the 
visitors, and Arnold himself, who followed at the 
plate, fanned very promptly, and when Sam Cush- 
ii 6 


TOBY BLOCKS THE PLATE 

ing had been easily tossed out at first the inning 
ended. 

In the second the Towners scored their first 
run on an infield error, a hit, and a sacrifice fly, 
Manuel Sousa crossing the plate with the initial 
tally of the game. The Head came back a few 
minutes later with two runs, however, and so the 
Towners had but a brief enjoyment of their lead. 
Two to one the score stood until the fourth. 
Then things happened. 

Frank Lamson had pitched a very creditable 
game so far. He had a couple of curves that 
broke nicely for him and he had a canny way of 
mixing them in with his straight ball that made 
them more serviceable. Something that he called 
his “fade-away” was less successful and usually 
“faded away” several feet in front of the plate. 
But he got to the fourth inning with only some 
six hits set down against him in the scorebook, 
and as those six had been well scattered he had 
been in no danger. But in that memorable fourth, 
Tony George, coming to bat for the second time, 
took a sudden and unexpected liking to Frank’s 
very first offering and sent it screaming away into 
deep right field about three yards beyond the point 
that Tracey Gay reached in his frantic effort to get 
to it. That hit yielded two bases on its merits 
117 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


and a third when Tracey threw in wildly and the 
ball rolled past first base. Tony got to third with 
seconds to spare. 

Toby stationed himself at first, hitched up his 
trousers at the knees, and coached loudly and in- 
cessantly, while Billy Conners, back of third, fol- 
lowed his example to the best of his ability. 
Harry Glass stepped to the plate and seemingly 
dared Frank to “put ’em over!” Just what did 
happen during the next ten minutes is not for me 
to attempt without the scorebook to refer to. I 
know that Harry Glass tried to bunt and was 
thrown out at first and that “Snub” Mooney took 
his place. You’re to bear in mind that during 
these proceedings Toby’s voice was cannoning 
across the diamond and that Billy Conners’s voice 
was flying back like a startling echo! And this 
had its effect on Frank Lamson. Snub tried hard 
to find something to his liking, but Frank only put 
one good one over and Snub walked. Whereupon 
Toby’s voice arose to greater heights. 

“All right, fellows! We’re on our way! He 
hasn’t a thing! Watch that, will you? Take a 
lead, Tony! Take a good one ! Oh, more’n that ! 
He won’t throw it! He wouldn’t dare to! He’s 
tired out. O-oh, what a bluff! Come on again, 
Tony! Now then, Tim, whale it! If you don’t 
118 


TOBY BLOCKS THE PLATE 


want to hit, wait him out ! He’ll give you the base 
if you wait! Here we go! Here we go! Here 
we go !” 

Tim, being a pitcher, was not supposed to hit, 
but this time he did, and the ball went straight be- 
tween Arnold, playing second, and the shortstop, 
and Tony trotted home. Tim went to first and 
might almost have reached second. Then Toby, 
batting last, whacked out a two-bagger that scored 
Tim. Billy Conners put Toby on third with a 
scratch hit down third base line, and Jim Lord 
dropped a foul and Toby scored. After that, well 
things got confused. Errors multiplied and Frank 
gave some two more passes and there were some 
more hits, one, by Gus Whelan, a three-bagger. 
When the inning was at last over the Towners 
had accumulated a nice lead of five runs, and the 
score stood 7 to 2 ! 

Tim Chrystal had his bad innings as well, and 
Toby, who was catching him, and doing a very 
good job, too, spent some anxious moments. The 
sixth was especially trying to Tim and the Town- 
ers, for in that inning the visitors got to Tim for 
four hits with a total of six that sent three more 
runs over. Meanwhile Frank Lamson had settled 
down again and the Towners made no more cir- 
cuits until the eighth. Then, when Harry Glass 
119 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


got to first base on the third baseman’s fumbling 
of an easy ball and was sacrificed to second b : 
Snub Mooney, Tim Chrystal took it into his head 
to bunt and laid the ball down in front of base. 
George Dodson faked a throw to first and then 
wheeled and pegged down to third to get Harry 
Glass. Harry, seeing a world of trouble ahead, 
doubled back to second again, found Tim speed- 
ing along from first, changed his mind as the ball 
passed him into Arnold’s hands, and streaked once 
more for the corner sack. 

By that time about half the Spaniards had 
gathered along the base line to take a hand in the 
festivities. Back and forth sped the ball and back 
and forth dodged Harry, always escaping by a 
hair’s breadth. Now and then, by way of adding 
an extra thrill, some one would fumble and Harry 
would get a new chance of life. But in the end 
they got him, though goodness knows how the 
official scorers scored that play, and George Dod- 
son, somewhat relieved, tossed the ball along the 
ground to the pitcher’s box. As it happened, 
Frank Lamson had been taking part in the pur- 
suit and was as far from the ball as any one, a 
fact which struck Tim Chrystal, on second now, at 
that instant. Tim promptly legged it for third. 
Three or four dismayed Spaniards hustled for the 
120 


TOBY BLOCKS THE PLATE 

ball. George Dodson got to it first, scooped it up 
and hurled it to third. But, as the third base- 
man was several yards from the bag, the ball con- 
tinued busily into the outfield and Tim continued 
on his way rejoicing, bringing home the eighth 
run for the Towners and joy and hilarity to his 
friends. 

Again, in their half of the eighth, the visitors 
decreased the lead. It was Arnold who was' di- 
rectly responsible, for he got a two-bagger off Tim 
and stole third standing up a minute later. Then 
Pete Lord smashed one at Manuel Sousa that that 
youth couldn’t handle cleanly and Arnold beat the 
throw to the plate by inches only. After that an- 
other hit, and an error by Tony George, gave the 
Spaniards one more tally. And the ninth began 
with the score 8 to 7, the visitors but one run 
behind. 

The Towners tried desperately to add to their 
margin of safety, but Frank Lamson, although 
he passed the first man up, struck out the next, 
made the third fly out to center fielder and himself 
tossed the ball to first for the final out. Toby 
was very glad that the opponents were down to 
the tail-end of their batting list when that last half 
of the ninth inning commenced, for Toby felt that 
it would be rather too bad to lose the game after 


121 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


securing the lead they had secured in the fourth. 
Many of the spectators from the Head had trun- 
dled away by now, for it was close on 5 o’clock, 
but the townsfolk stayed loyally on. 

Frank Lamson was first up, and Frank, who 
had not distinguished himself greatly with the 
stick, was bent on getting at least one good whack. 
Besides, he had the feeling that, on the whole, Tim 
Chrystal had out-pitched him, and he wanted to 
do his bit to spoil that youth’s record. And after 
Tim had got two nice strikes across and had only 
wasted one ball in the operation Frank saw some- 
thing coming that looked good and let go at it. 
Toby, watching the ball streak safely into short 
left field, remorsefully told himself that that was 
his fault, for he had called on Tim to “sneak one 
over,” and Frank had outguessed him. 

Then Hal Mason, center fielder, bunted and 
Tim threw wide and Hal was safe. Toby knew 
he would steal and watched him closely. But with 
Frank Lamson on third he didn’t dare throw down 
to second. Instead, he pegged hard to Tim and 
Tim very neatly relayed the ball to third and 
Frank was caught a yard off the base. After that 
Toby breathed easier, for with one out and two 
strikes on Catcher Dodson things looked brighter. 

But Tim fell down badly and Dodson walked 
122 



Toby pegged hard to Tim 











































I 







4 





























































% 

















TOBY BLOCKS THE PLATE 


to first and the head of the visitors’ batting list 
came up. That was Tracey Gay, and Tracey had 
at least two hits to his credit to the best of Toby’s 
recollection. Tracey was evidently bent on send- 
ing a fly to the outfield, for he dropped two fouls 
outside the base lines before Tim had had a ball 
called on him. Then, with the Spaniards’ coaches 
howling at him, Tim got nervous and the first thing 
Toby knew the bases were full with only one out! 

“Here’s where we run away from you,” said 
Arnold as he stepped up and tapped the plate with 
his bat. “Sorry, Toby.” 

“That’s all right, Arn.” Toby smiled, although 
it was an awful effort. “I’m not worrying any. 
You’ve got to hit out of the infield to get a run, 
so go ahead and let’s see you do it.” 

“Oh, I might stand here and let him pass me,” 
laughed Arnold. “I won’t, though, if he will give 
me a chance to hit.” 

“You’ll get plenty of chances. Just be sure you 
don’t miss them, Arn! Play for the plate, fel- 
lows! Next man now! Let’s have ’em, Tim! 
Right over, you know!” 

A wide one that Mr. Trainor very properly 
called a ball, a drop that went as a strike by the 
narrowest of margins, a high one that floated past 

above Arnold’s shoulder and then 

123 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


Whack ! 

Toby’s hands dropped emptily. Down at sec- 
ond Harry Glass was leaping into the air. From 
third raced Hal Mason. Every one was shouting 
at once. There was a slap as Harry’s upraised 
hand speared the ball. Then the sphere was 
speeding back to the plate. Toby straddled the 
base, tossing aside his mask, and held out eager 
hands. On came the runner, fast and hard, threw 
himself off his feet and slid in a cloud of dust. 
Smack came the ball into Toby’s mitten. Toby, 
plucking it out with his right hand, dropped to his 
knees, blocking the plate, and jabbed forward with 
it. Then Toby and the runner were tossed apart, 
the dust arose in a yellow cloud and somewhere 
above it a voice cried “He’s out!” 


CHAPTER XI 


TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 





E’LL play you again next Wednes- 
day,’’ said Arnold as the two nines, 
victor and vanquished, trailed back 


to the village. 

“Yes, and beat you, too,” growled Frank Lam- 
son. “You fellows had all the luck today and 
most of the decisions !” 

“We may have had some luck,” responded 
Toby, “but you can’t say Mr. Trainor didn’t um- 
pire fairly. And I guess our fellows will be all 
ready for you any time you say. If you want to 
play again Wednesday ” 

“Make it a week from Wednesday,” advised 
George Dodson, nursing a hurt finger solicitously. 
“We need more practice than we’ve had, Deer- 


ing. 


“A week from Wednesday, then,” agreed Toby. 
“We’re always glad to show you chaps how to 
play.” And he smiled provokingly at Frank. 
Frank only growled. 

Arnold was on hand bright and early Monday 


125 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


morning to watch the interesting operation of fix- 
ing the ribs to the curving keel of the new knock- 
about. It was all Toby could do to persuade him 
to leave the shed and go fishing, and when Arnold 
did finally allow himself to be dragged away he 
was so full of his sailboat that he fell over every 
obstacle in the yard and talked incessantly about 
it until the Turnover was well out of the harbor. 
They chugged across to the flats above Johnstown 
and cast their lines over. It was a good day for 
fishing, with a cloudy sky and a favorable tide, 
but for some reason doubtless known only to them 
the fish refused the invitations extended. Arnold 
didn’t mind much, for he preferred talking to fish- 
ing today. With the launch tugging at her anchor 
they whiled away the most of the forenoon, Ar- 
nold at last fairly talking himself out on the sub- 
ject of the knockabout. 

“What would you name her?” he asked. “How 
do you like Sea Swallow or Sea Lark?” 

“I like Sea Cow better,” replied Toby, pulling 
up his line to look disgustedly at the untouched 
bait. “Get something with more zip to it. Like 
Dart or Scud — or — or Slap-Bang. Slap-Bang 
would be a good name for a knockabout, for that’s 
just the way they go, slapping the water and bang- 
ing down on the waves.” 

126 


TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 


But Arnold wasn’t very enthusiastic about that 
suggestion. He said something “more — more ro- 
mantic” would be better, and Toby, anxious to 
oblige, suggested in rapid succession Polly, Mary , 
Moonlight , Lillian, Corsair , Pirate, and May- 
flower. But Arnold was hard to please, and 
turned up his nose at all of those. After that the 
subject was momentarily abandoned and Arnold 
reverted to the question of Toby’s expenditure of 
that one hundred and fifty dollars. It seemed to 
hurt Arnold to think of that magnificent sum lying 
idle in the bank, and he was all for action. He 
had more schemes for getting rid of it than Toby 
could remember. 

“How much did you say it would take to go 
to Yardley Hall for a year?” Toby asked finally, 
putting fresh bait on his hook and absent-mindedly 
wiping his hands on his trousers. 

“Yardley? I don’t remember what we figured 
it. Why?” 

“I was just thinking,” murmured Toby. 
“Seems to me we said it would be about three hun- 
dred and fifty dollars for everything.” 

“I guess so. Let’s see. A hundred and fifty 
for tuition, say two hundred for room and board, 
and about ten or fifteen for other things. How 
much is that?” 


127 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Three hundred and sixty-five,” replied Toby 
promptly. “I’d have to have two hundred arid 
fifteen more, wouldn’t I?” 

“Say!” Arnold sat up'very suddenly. “You’re 
not thinking of — of ” 

Toby nodded. “Yes, I am thinking of it, but 
I guess it won’t get beyond the thinking, Arn. 
Where’d I get two hundred and fifteen more? 
Maybe dad could spare me fifty; say twenty-five 
at first and another twenty-five in the winter, but 
that would leave a hundred and sixty-five to be 
got somewhere. I don’t suppose a fellow could 
— could earn anything there, could he?” 

“I don’t believe so,” answered Arnold deject- 
edly. 

“I didn’t know. You read about fellows at col- 
lege cutting grass and shoveling snow and — and 
things like that, you know, and helping themselves 
a whole lot. I thought maybe a fellow could do 
something of that sort at Yardley.” 

“Well, maybe he could,” said Arnold cautiously. 
“I wouldn’t say he couldn’t, Toby. Wouldn’t 
your father come across with more than fifty?” 

“I don’t say he’d come across with any,” an- 
swered Toby. “He isn’t making much money 
nowadays, although things look better this sum- 
mer. He’s got four orders so far, counting yours, 
128 


TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 


and one of them’s a pretty big one. But I 
wouldn’t want to ask him to let me have more 
than fifty, anyhow. If there was only some way 
to earn some money around here!” Toby gazed 
thoughtfully across at the near-by shore. “Run- 
ning errands doesn’t get you much. I’ve thought 
of about everything. Sometimes you can do pretty 
well fishing and selling to the summer folks, but 
when the fish don’t bite any better than they’re 
biting today ” 

His voice dwindled away into silence and for 
a minute only the lap-lap of the water was heard. 
Then it was Arnold who began again, prefacing 
his remark with a long sigh. “Gee, Toby, it 
would certainly be great if you Could come to 
Yardley,” he said wistfully. “Think of the dandy 
times we could have ! And playing ball like you 
did Saturday, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d 
make your class team right off ! And then there’s 
football and hockey 1” 

Toby nodded agreement. “I’d sure like it,” he 
muttered. 

“Isn’t there any way to earn that much?” pur- 
sued Arnold. “Look here, couldn’t you do any- 
thing with this launch? Couldn’t you sell her for 
something?” 

Toby looked startled. “I hadn’t thought of 
129 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


that,” he said slowly. “She wouldn’t fetch much, 
though. Besides, you can buy plenty of second- 
hand launches around here. They are as thick as 
blackberries. Maybe — maybe I’ll think of some 
way, though. I — I’ve sort of made up my mind 
to go to that Yardley Hall place, Am, and when 
I make up my mind I most always get what I’m 
after. It’s funny, but that’s the way it is.” 

“Well, then, you make up your mind hard!” 
laughed Arnold. “And I’ll make up mine hard, 
too. And — and maybe it’ll really happen !” 

“Maybe. Sometimes it seems to me as if when 
you want a thing you’ve just got to set your mind 
on it and — and steer right straight for it, and 
you’ll get it. I don’t suppose it always happens 
like that, but pretty often it does. You’ve got to 
sort of concentrate, Arn; forget other things and 
pick up your marks and — and keep your course 
mighty steady.” Toby drew up his empty hook 
and began reeling the line. “Anyway, I’m going 
to’ try it.” 

For the next several days Toby had queer pe- 
riods of thoughtfulness, going off into trances 
without warning and quite alarming Arnold, who 
feared, or professed to fear, that his chum’s mind 
was giving way. “It’s having all that money to 
think about,” declared Arnold. “If you’d only 
130 


TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 


spend it for something it wouldn’t worry you.” 

“As long as that bank doesn’t bust,” answered 
the other, “I’m not troubling about the money. 
Your father said it was a very safe bank, didn’t 
he?” 

“Safe as any of them,” teased Arnold, “but, of 
course, you never can tell when the cashier or — 
or. some one will take it into his head to start off 
to Canada !” 

“Huh ! They fetch ’em back now,” said Toby. 
“That doesn’t scare me. Dad says I might have 
put it in the postoffice^ though.” 

“Buy stamps with it?” asked Arnold in a puz- 
zled voice. 

“No, put it in the Postal Savings Bank. The 
government looks after it for you then, and I 
guess the government would be pretty safe, eh?” 

“So’s that bank you’ve got it in. If it wasn’t 
safe do you suppose father would keep money in 
it?” 

“N-no, I guess not. I wouldn’t want to lose 
that hundred and fifty though. I — I’ve got a use 
for that!” 

“Have you asked your father about Yardley 
yet?” 

Toby shook his head. “I thought I’d better 
wait until I had some more. Only thing is” — he 

131 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


frowned deeply — “I don’t know how to get any 
more ! I’ve been thinking and thinking!” 

“Oh, well, there’s lots of time yet. Come on 
down to the shed and see how the boat’s getting 
along.” 

The knockabout was coming fast and Arnold 
never tired of watching Mr. Tucker and “Long 
Tim” and “Shorty” at work. Long Tim’s full 
name was Timothy Tenney. He stood fully six 
feet three inches tall when he straightened up, but 
that was seldom since the bending over to his work 
for some forty-odd years had put a perceptible 
stoop to his shoulders. Long Tim was thin and 
angular and weather beaten, with a fringe of griz- 
zled whiskers from ear to ear, and very little in 
the way of hair above the whiskers. He loved to 
talk, and was a mine of strange, even unbelievable 
information which he was quite ready to impart 
in his nasal drawl. “Shorty” was Joe Cross, a 
small, square chunk of a man who had come ashore 
years before from a Newfoundland lumber 
schooner and had forgotten to return until the 
schooner had sailed again. Shorty had a family 
somewhere in Canada, and was forever threaten- 
ing to go back to it, but never got further than 
New York. Long Tim came from a family of 
boat-builders, but Shorty had learned the trade 
132 


TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 


under Mr. Tucker. Both were capable workmen, 
although Long Tim looked on Shorty as still 
merely an apprentice, and shook his head dole- 
fully when he was entrusted with any more par- 
ticular task than driving a nail. 

If Arnold could have had his way he would 
have spent most of his waking hours sitting in the 
boat shed with his feet in sawdust and shavings 
and auger chips watching the knockabout grow and 
listening to the ceaseless drawling of Long Tim. 
But Toby wasn’t satisfied to dawdle like that and 
hailed Arnold off to various more lively occupa- 
tions. Several afternoons during the next ten days 
were spent by Arnold, none too enthusiastically, 
in practicing ball with the. Spanish Head team in' 
preparation for that approaching game. 

Toby, too, put in a little time in a similar way, 
but the trouble with Toby’s team was that it was 
impossible to get all the fellows together at the 
same time. Usually they were shy from one to 
four players and were forced to fill up the ranks 
with such volunteers as were on hand. Arnold 
brought stirring tales of practice over at the Head 
and predicted overwhelming victory for his nine. 
But Toby refused to become alarmed. The Town- 
ers had won once, and he believed they could do 
it again. Even if they couldn’t there was still no 
133 


KEEPING HI.S COURSE 


harm done. Baseball was only baseball and some 
one had to lose ! 

It was on a Wednesday, just a week after that 
first contest, that Toby stood on the town landing 
float and waited for Arnold to come over from 
the Head in the Frolic . At low tide it was finicky 
work getting up to the boat-yard pier, and Arnold 
tied up at the town float instead. The hour was 
still early, for in the Tucker cottage breakfast was 
at six-thirty in summer, and Toby had cleaned the 
spark-plug on the Turnover , mended a window 
screen, walked to the grocery store and back on 
an errand, and reached the landing, and, behind 
him, the clock in the church tower showed the time 
to be still well short of eight. Arnold had prom- 
ised to come across early, however, since they had 
planned to run up to Riverport and get some 
hardware for the knockabout which was waiting 
for them at the freight depot. Save that Toby 
was seated across the bow of a dory instead of on 
a box, he presented much the same appearance as 
at our first meeting with him. Perhaps his skin 
was a little deeper brown, and perhaps, as he 
gazed again across the harbor and bay, his face 
was a trifle more thoughtful — or his thoughtful- 
ness a bit more earnest. And he was whistling 
a new tune under his breath, something that Phebe 
134 


TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 


had of late been playing incessantly on the old- 
fashioned square piano in the cottage parlor. The 
harbor was quiet and almost deserted. On a 
black sloop, moored well off the landing, a man 
was busy with pail and swab, but, excepting for 
the gulls, he was the only moving thing in sight 
until footsteps sounded on the pier above and a 
man descended the gangplank. 

He was a middle-aged man in a suit of blue 
serge and square-toed shoes, and he carried a 
brown leather satchel. He looked like a person in 
a hurry, Toby concluded, although there was no 
apparent reason for his hurry. He looked im- 
patiently about the float and then at Toby. 

“Isn’t there a ferry here?” he demanded. 

“No, sir. Where do you want to go?” 

“Johnstown. I thought there was a ferry over 
there. I was told there was.” He viewed Toby 
accusingly. 

Toby shook his head. “There used to be, sir, 
about six years ago, but the man who ran it died, 
and ” 

“Great Scott! Do you mean to tell me that 
I’ve got to go way around by Riverport? Why, 
that’ll take me two hours I And I’ve got an ap- 
pointment there at nine! What sort of a place 
is this, anyway? No ferry! No place to get 
135 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


any breakfast! No — no !” he sputtered 

angrily. 

“I guess it’ll take most of two hours by car- 
riage,” agreed Toby, “but I can put you over 
there by eight-thirty, sir.” 

“You’ve got a boat?” 

“Yes, sir, but ” 

“Where is it?” The stranger’s gaze swept 
over the bobbing craft. “I suppose it’s a sailboat 
and we’ll drift around out there half the morn- 
ing. Well, I’ll try it. Good gracious, only seventy 
miles from the city and no — no accommodations 
of any sort! No place to eat, no ferry ” 

“Yes, sir, we’re sort of slow around here,” 
agreed Toby, calmly. 

“Slow! I should say you were slow! Well, 
where’s the boat? Bring it along! There’s no 
time to waste, young fellow !” 

“Well, if you don’t have to be there before 
nine” — Toby looked over his shoulder at the 
church clock — “you’ve got plenty of time to have 
some breakfast before we start. It’s only three 
miles across and I’ve got a launch that’ll do it in 
twenty minutes easy.” 

“Launch, eh? That’s better! Show me where 
I can get a cup of coffee then. I haven’t had any- 
thing to eat since last night. I left Southampton 
136 


TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 


at six and there wasn’t time. Got a restaurant here 
somewhere., have you?” 

“Not exactly a restaurant,” replied Toby, “but 
if you’ll come with me I’ll show you where you 
can get some coffee and bread and butter. The 
launch is over there, anyway, so it won’t take 
much longer.” 

“Look ahead, then,” said the man. “I’ll go 
most anywhere for a cup of coffee 1” The pros- 
pect of food seemed to better his humor, for all 
the way up the landing and around the road to the 
cottage he asked questions and conversed quite 
jovially. When, however, he discovered that the 
boy had led him to his home he was all for back- 
ing down. 

“It’s very kind of you,” he said, “but I wouldn’t 
want to bother any one to make coffee for me. 
I’ll wait till I get to Johnstown.” 

“It won’t be any trouble, sir, and my mother 
will be glad to do it. Gee, she’d like it if I’d bring 
some one around to be fed every day! Please, 
come right in, sir, and sit down, and mother’ll 
have something ready for you in no time.” 

Hesitatingly, the stranger allowed himself to 
be conducted up the steps and into the sitting room, 
and Toby went to the kitchen and acquainted his 
mother with the needs of the occasion, producing 
137 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

in Mrs. Tucker a fine flurry of excitement and an 
enthusiastic delight. Ten minutes later, refreshed 
and grateful, the stranger — he had introduced 
himself as Mr. Whitney of New York — followed 
Toby through the yard, down the slippery ladder, 
and into the Turnover . If he felt dubious about 
trusting himself to that craft and to Toby’s sea- 
manship, he made no sign. Toby cast off and then 
faced his passenger. 

“I guess,” he announted, “we’d ought to agree 
on a price before we start, sir.” 

“Eh? Oh, yes! Well, you’ve got me where I 
can’t say much, young fellow. Just be easy and 
there won’t be any kick from me. What’s the 
damage going to be?” 

“Well, sir, it’s three miles over there, and gaso- 
line’s worth twenty-three cents this week, 
and ” 

“Don’t frighten me to death!” laughed the 
man. “Will five dollars do the trick?” 

“Five dollars!” Toby gasped. 

“Not enough? Call it seven-fifty then.” 

“It’s too much! Why, a dollar — or maybe, a 
dollar and a half ” 

The stranger laughed loudly. “Go ahead, 
then ! But you’ll never be a millionaire if you do 
business that way. When any one offers you five 

138 


TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 

dollars, young fellow, it’s poor business to take 
less.” 

Toby smiled as he put the handle in the fly- 
wheel. ‘‘Seems to me, sir,” he said, “it’s just as 
poor business to offer five dollars when the job’s 
only worth a dollar and a half!”' 

“Well, that’s right, tool” The man chuckled. 
“Maybe that’s why I’m not a millionaire yet* 
Want me to do anything in the way of steering?” 

“No, sir, thanks. I’ll steer from here.” 

The Turnover backed away from the pier, 
turned and crept out of the narrow channel, across 
the cove and into the harbor. Half-way to the 
entrance they passed a surprised Arnold at the 
wheel of the Frolic and Toby called across to him 
that he would be back about a quarter past nine. 
Arnold nodded and waved and the white launch 
and the gray swept past each other. The pas- 
senger came forward and made himself comfort- 
able opposite Toby as the Turnover pointed her 
nose across the bay. In the course of the conver- 
sation that ensued above the clatter of the little 
engine Toby learned that Mr. Whitney was a 
contractor and that he was going to Johnstown 
to consult with a man about building a cottage 
there. 

“I’m doing some work at Southampton,” he ex- 
139 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


plained, “and it’s going to be awkward for a while 
getting from one place to the other. Guess I’ll 
have to buy n*e one of these things, eh? Unless — 
look here, want to arrange to take me back and 
forth now and then? I’ll pay you three dollars 
the round trip.” 

“Yes, sir, I’d be glad to,” agreed Toby eagerly. 
“When would you want to go again?” 

“I don’t know that yet. This little tub seems 
pretty seaworthy. Run her a good deal, have 
you?” 

“Yes, sir, and others before her. She isn’t 
much to look at, but she’s a good boat.” 

“What do you call her?” 

“The Turnover ” 

“The which?” 

“ Turnover , sir,” repeated Toby, smiling. 

“Well, that’s a pleasant, reassuring sort of 
name for a launch! Does she — does she do it — 
often?” 

“No, sir, she’s never done it yet,” laughed 
Toby. “You can’t tell much by names, Mr. Whit- 
ney.” 

“H’m; well, I’m glad to hear it. I was think- 
ing that maybe we’d better call that bargain off ! 
Is that the landing ahead there?” 

“Yes, sir. We’ll be in in a minute or two.” 

140 


TOBY MAKES UP HIS MIND 


“I suppose you get mail in Greenhaven? Well, 
I’ll drop you a line some day soon and tell you 
when I’ll be along next. Let me see, what’s your 
name?” 

“Tucker, sir; T. Tucker.” 

“T? For Thomas?” 

“N-no, sir; for Tobias; Toby for short.” 

“I see! Toby Tucker, Greenhaven, Long Is- 
land.” Mr. Whitney set the address down in a 
memorandum book. “All right, Toby, you’ll hear 
from me.” He replaced the little book in a vest 
pocket and pulled out a wallet. “Now, we’ll set- 
tle up for the present trip and start fair the next 
time.” He took a five-dollar bill from the purse 
and handed it across. 

“I — I can’t change that, sir,” said Toby. “You 
can let it go until next time.” 

“I don’t want you to change it, Toby. I guess 
five isn’t too much for that breakfast and this 
trip. It’s worth it to me, anyway.” 

“There isn’t any charge for breakfast,” Toby 
protested. 

“Well, then, we’ll call it a bonus on the con- 
tract. Stick it in your pocket, young fellow, and 
don’t look as if it was poison.” 

“But it’s a lot more than it ought to be,” stam- 
mered Toby. 

141 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Don’t you worry about that,” laughed the 
man. “It’s worth ten times five dollars to me to 
get here on time. Here we are ! Much obliged 
to you, Tobias. See you again. Good-by!” 

Mr. Whitney, bag in hand, jumped nimbly to 
the float, waved a hand, and hurried away, leav- 
ing Toby the happy possessor of the magnificent 
sum of five dollars, a beatific prospect of more, 
and a wonderful idea ! 


CHAPTER XII 


“t. tucker, prop.” 

T HE wonderful idea he explained to Ar- 
nold as, half an hour later, they started 
off in the Frolic for Riverport. 

“What he said about the ferry put it in my 
head,” said Toby. “There used to be a ferry 
across to Johnstown five or six years ago. I guess 
there weren’t many passengers then, but it must 
have paid or else old Captain Gould wouldn’t 
have run it so long. And it seems to me there’d 
be more folks wanting to get across now than 
there was then. Why, six years ago there wasn’t 
a half dozen summer cottages around Greenhaven. 
And the hotel at Johnstown wasn’t built, either. 
I guess if folks knew there was a regular ferry 
across they’d use it. Don’t it seem so to you, 
Arn?” 

“Sure ! But would the Turnover be big enough, 
Toby?” 

“She’ll hold eight without crowding, and I 
guess if I ever get eight folks at once I’ll be pretty 
lucky.” 


143 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“How much would you charge?” 

“Fifty cents,” replied Toby promptly. “Do 
you think that’s too much? I could make a round 
trip rate of seventy-five, maybe.” 

“No, fifty cents isn’t much for a three-mile. trip. 
How often would you make it?” 

“Four times a day, twice in the morning and 
twice in the afternoon. I could leave here at nine, 
say, and come back at ten. Then I could go over 
again at eleven, two, and four. Even if I carried 
only four passengers a day it would be two dol- 
lars, and that would make twelve dollars a week. 
And there’s twelve weeks yet, and that would be 
a hundred and forty-four dollars!” 

“You’ve got to think about gas and oil, though, 
Toby.” 

“That’s so! Well, gas would cost me about 
twenty cents a day, and oil — say, five, although it 
wouldn’t come to so much. That would make it 
a dollar and seventy-five cents instead of two, 
wouldn’t it? How much would I have at the 
end of the summer?” 

Arnold did some mental arithmetic and an- 
nounced the result as a hundred and twenty-six 
dollars. “But you’d ought to get more than four 
passengers a day, Toby, after folks heard about 
it. You could put up notices, couldn’t you?” 

144 


T. TUCKER, PROP.” 


“Yes, and Pd have a sign on the landing, 

and ” he paused and frowned. “I wonder if 

they’d make me pay for using the town landing. 
They might, you know.” 

“I don’t see why. It would be a — a public 
accommodation !” 

“I can find out. Anyway, they couldn’t ask 
much, I guess.” 

“If I were you I’d change the name of your 
launch, though,” Arnold advised. “Ladies might 
feel sort of — of nervous about going in a boat 
with a name like that.” 

“What would you call her?” asked Toby, du- 
biously. “Changing the name might change the 
luck, and my luck’s been pretty good lately.” 

“I don’t know. You could find another name 
all right. Say, Toby, why couldn’t I come in on 
it? I wouldn’t want any of the money, of course, 
but we could use the Frolic any time we had a lot 
of passengers. Would you mind if I helped?” 

“No, I’d be awfully glad to have you, only — do 
you think your father would want you to?” 

“He wouldn’t mind. I’ll ask him tonight. I 
could bring this boat over in the morning and then 
we could use whichever one we wanted to. 
Maybe if there were ladies going over they’d 
rather go in the Frolic.” 

145 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“I guess maybe they would,” laughed Toby. 
“But there wouldn’t be many ladies, probably. I 
suppose if I took other folks over to Johnstown 
for fifty cents I couldn’t ask Mr. Whitney to pay 
any more, could I ?” 

“Why not ? He made a bargain with you, didn’t 
he? If you got a dollar and a half from him, 
besides what you made from other people ” 

But Toby shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fair. 
I’d ask him the same as the rest. Only, maybe 
there won’t be any rest. It wouldn’t do any harm 
to try it for a couple of weeks, though, eh? Arid 
it might turn out fine !” 

“It will ! I’ll bet there’s lots of folks over at 
the Head who’d be mighty glad to get over to 
Johnstown if they didn’t have to go all around 
by road. Why, it must be ten or twelve miles by 
the road!” 

All the way up the river to the landing at Riv- 
erport, all the way to the freight house, all the 
way back, laden with a forty-pound box of yacht 
hardware, and all the way home again they talked 
over the ferry scheme, Arnold becoming even 
more enthusiastic than Toby. They developed 
the plan until, in their imaginations, they could see 
a whole flotilla of ferryboats crossing the bay to 
Johnstown and Riverport and around to Shinne- 
146 


T. TUCKER, PROP.’’ 


cock and even as far as Mattituck! And real 
ferryboats, too; fine white and gold cabin launches 
holding as many as thirty persons! And Toby 
was to stand at the wheel and navigate while Ar- 
nold, in a resplendent white duck suit and cap 
with crossed anchors on it was to collect the fares ! 

The only thing that worried Arnold was that 
he would be so busy helping Toby operate the 
ferry line that he wouldn’t have time to use the 
new knockabout. Rut Toby brought partial con- 
solation by pointing out that there’d be time, be- 
tween trips, maybe, and that, anyway, they’d have 
the evenings. Even baseball went to the discard 
for the rest of that week, so busy were they plan- 
ning and perfecting the new ferry service. Frank 
Lamson, whose one desire just then was to wreak 
vengeance on the town ball team, threatened mu- 
tiny, declaring that if Arnold didn’t call practice 
and attend it he and the other members of the 
Spanish Head team would take affairs into their 
own hands and elect a new captain. Arnold man- 
aged to put him off until Monday, however, and 
by that time “Tucker’s Ferry Line” was about 
ready for business. Toby had decided to wait 
until Thursday before starting the service in order 
to play that ball game on Wednesday. Arnold 
would have canceled it willingly, but Toby de- 
147 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


dared that it wouldn’t be fair to the fellows who 
had joined his team, and practiced more or less 
faithfully, to disband without at least one more 
game. 

“After Wednesday I’ll tell them I can’t play 
any more and then they can choose another cap- 
tain and keep on if they want to. Maybe if the 
ferry doesn’t succeed we can have some more 
games. It wouldn’t interfere with your playing, 
Arn, because we wouldn’t both have to attend to 
the ferry.” 

But Arnold denied that vigorously. “I’m going 
to do my full share of the work,” he declared. 
“Besides, I can play baseball most any time. 
Those fellows can find a new captain, if they like, 
and go on playing. I guess Frank will be glad to 
take the job. He doesn’t much like the way I’m 
doing it, anyway,” he concluded with a laugh. 

On Friday, Long Tim, painter as well as car- 
penter, planed down a four-foot pine plank after 
hours, sandpapered it, braided a small half-round 
along the edges, and covered the whole with a 
priming coat of white paint. And then, the fol- 
lowing evening, while Toby and Arnold stood over 
him, breathless and admiring, he traced out the 
inscription “Johnstown Ferry,” filled in the letters 
with black, put another coat of white on the re- 
148 


T. TUCKER, PROP.” 


mainder of the surface, and finally finished up by 
placing a black border around all. The boys 
viewed the result with enthusiastic approval and 
sighed with regret when Long Tim turned it to 
the wall to dry. They found a new name for the 
Turnover that evening by the simple expedient of 
chopping off the first and last letters, and the 
launch became, for the summer at least, the 
JJrnove . 

On Monday morning Toby parted with two 
dollars and a half of that precious five in exchange 
for fifty cardboard placards which announced 
startlingly : 

GREENHAVEN-JOHNSTOWN FERRY 

Commencing Thursday, July 17, launches Frolic 
and Urnove will leave the town landing for Johns- 
town daily except Sunday at 9 and 11 A. M. and 2 
and 4 P. M. Returning, leave Johnstown one-half 
hour later. Fare, one way, 50 cents. Round trip, 

7 5 cents. 

T. Tucker, Prop. 

Armed with the placards, Toby and Arnold 
made the round of the principal stores in Green- 
haven and Johnstown and saw them obligingly 
placed in the windows. The hotel at Johnstown 
was similarly honored, as was the postoffice there 
149 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


and in their own town. And after that they tacked 
the notices wherever they thought they would at- 
tract attention without entailing a penalty. The 
final placard — no, not the final one, either, for 
Arnold kept that to go up in his room at school, 
but the next to the last one was tacked to the side 
of Hawkins’ leather store at the corner of the 
alley that led to the landing, and, lest some one 
might be in doubt as to the location of the town 
landing, Arnold added a hand, which pointed quite 
dramatically down the little lane. 

Long Tim put the sign in place that evening. 
Mr. Hawkins was very complaisant, perhaps 
thinking that some of the patrons of the ferry 
might be attracted to his stock, and gave ready 
permission to attach the sign to the alley side of 
the store so that it jutted out well over the side- 
walk and was visible a block away. The boys 
were certain of that, because they hurried along 
the street to a position in front of the postoffice 
and looked! They spent most a quarter of an 
hour viewing Long Tim’s handiwork from various 
places at various angles, and would have stayed 
longer if it hadn’t got dark. 

The question of paying for the privilege of 
using the landing was still unsettled. It had been 
left to Mr. Tucker, who was himself one of the 
150 


“T. TUCKER, PROP. 1 


selectmen, and Mr. Tucker reported that the other 
members of the board were unable to reach any 
conclusion in the matter and proposed postponing 
a decision until the next town meeting, which was 
scheduled for November. Meanwhile he advised 
Toby to go ahead as long as no one interfered 
with him, which Toby did. 

Mr. Tucker, rather to Toby’s surprise, ap- 
proved of the ferry enterprise warmly. “Likely,” 
he said, “you won’t make a pile of money, Toby, 
but it’ll keep you out of mischief and give you 
something to do. And Pm not saying it won’t pay, 
either. I guess there’s folks that’ll be glad to run 
over to Johnstown that way instead of driving to 
the Port and taking the train. What you going 
to do with all your wealth, Toby, anyhow? 
Maybe you’d like to buy into the business, eh?” 

Toby hesitated a minute, but it seemed a very 
good opportunity to tell his father of his ambition 
to go to Yardley Hall School, and he did so. Mr. 
Tucker listened without comment until Toby had 
somewhat breathlessly finished. Then he did what 
was very characteristic. He pushed back an imag- 
inary hat — the conversation took place in the cot- 
tage one evening just before bedtime — and 
scratched his head thoughtfully. At last: 

“That’s a pile of money, son, to spend for a 
Hi 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

year’s schooling. What are you going to get out 
out of it that you can’t get over at Johnstown? 
Do they teach you more things at this school you’re 
telling of?” 

“N-no, sir, not more, exactly. Maybe they do, 
though, too. But it’s being at a place like that 
that’s the fun, Dad.” 

“Fun, eh? Sure it isn’t just the fun you’re 
thinking of? Three or four hundred dollars is a 
sight of money to spend for funl” 

“I’m not thinking of only that, Dad. I — I guess 
I can’t explain very well, but it’s meeting other fel- 
lows and — and making friendships and learning 
how to — to look after myself that I’m thinking 
of.” 

“Seems to me you could do all that at high 
school, Toby. And high school won’t cost more’n 
a fifth as much, fares and all. It’s your money and 
I suppose you ought to have the spending of it, so 
long’s you don’t spend it plumb foolishly. But 
what occurs to me is that this Yardley Hall place 
is a mighty poor place for a boy who hasn’t plenty 
of money. Mostly rich boys, ain’t they ; those that 
go to it?” 

“No, sir, Arnold says there are lots of fel- 
lows who aren’t rich; fellows about like me, 
Dad.” 


152 


“T. TUCKER, PROP/ 


“H’m, well, I don’t know. We’ll think it over. 
What you going to do next year for money? One 
year won’t do you much good, I guess.” 

“I don’t know. Only, somehow, I’ve got a 
hunch that if I can get through the first year I’ll 
manage the others, Dad.” 

Mr. Tucker shook his head. “I wouldn’t put 
too much faith on ‘hunches,’ as you call ’em, Toby. 
I’ll talk to Arnold about this school some day. 
If it’s going to give you something the high school 
can’t give you, son, and you’ve got the money to 
pay for it, why, I don’t know as I’m going to in- 
terfere none. But you’ll have to get your ma’s 
consent.” 

Toby agreed, feeling fairly certain that he could 
obtain that without much difficulty, although he 
knew that his mother would view his absence from 
home with alarm and sorrow. When Phebe was 
told of the plan she disappointed Toby by her lack 
of enthusiasm at first. 

“You mean that you’ll be away from home for 
months at a time ?” she asked dolorously. “Won’t 
you be coming home ever, Toby?” 

“Maybe, but I guess I couldn’t afford to come 
home very often even if they’d let me. Of course, 
I’d be home at Christmas and — and Easter.” 

“Christmas is a long time from September. I 
153 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


suppose it’ll be perfectly dandy for you, Toby, 
but — but I’ll be awfully lonesome 1” 

“You wouldn’t be after awhile. I guess I’d be, 
too, at first. But we don’t have to worry about 
that, because maybe there won’t anything come 
of it.” 

But Phebe refused to be consoled so easily. 
She assured him that she “just felt that he would 
go!” 

And Toby, although pretending to have no 
faith in her premonition, secretly hoped it would 
prove correct. 


CHAPTER XIII 


TRICK FOR TRICK 

W EDNESDAY didn’t promise very well 
at first for the baseball game, for the 
morning dawned dark and lowery, with 
a thick fog rolling in from the bay. But 
by noon the fog horns had ceased bellowing, 
the mist had burned off and the sun was out 
again. The audience was flatteringly large 
when the game began at half-past three, the Head 
being represented by an impressive array of cars 
and carriages which, after climbing the hill by a 
stony and devious lane, parked along the edge 
of the field. Mr. Trainor was again on hand to 
umpire, and his brother and Mrs. Trainor sat on 
the grass back of first base under a vividly green 
sunshade and poked fun at him and “rooted” en- 
thusiastically for the Towners. Toby’s team con- 
tained a new player in the person of “Chuck” 
Morgan, who took Harry Glass’s place at short- 
stop, Harry being confined at home with the 
mumps. The Spaniards, too, presented a stranger 
in their line-up, a large youth named Phillips, who 
held down third base. Toby and the other Town- 
155 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


ers viewed Phillips with misgiving and some indig- 
nation, for he must have been nineteen years old 
if he was a day. Toby sought Arnold and regis- 
tered an objection vigorously. 

“We didn’t agree to play with grown-ups, Arn,” 
he said. “We haven’t a fellow over sixteen on 
our team.” 

Arnold was apologetic. “It’s Frank’s doing, 
Toby,” he explained. “Sam Cushing’s away and 
Frank said he knew of a fellow to take his place, 
and I told him to get him. I didn’t know he was 
so old. If I had I wouldn’t have let him on. But 
there isn’t any one else we can get now. Still, if 
you say you won’t play against him, all right. 
Maybe we can borrow a fellow from you.” 

“He looks like a pretty good player,” mur- 
mured Toby, mollified, but still dubious. “Is he ?” 

“I don’t know much about him. I’ll ask 
Frank.” 

Frank Lamson was summoned to the confer- 
ence and the question put to him. “Phillips?” re- 
plied Frank, carelessly. “No, I guess he isn’t 
much at baseball. He played football at Town- 
send School last year, but I never heard he was 
much of a baseball shark. Anyway, we’re only 
playing for fun, Toby, so what does it matter?” 

“Well, he’s a heap older than us fellows,” Toby 
156 


TRICK FOR TRICK 


objected. “It doesn’t seem quite fair, that’s all.” 

“You’re afraid of getting licked,” laughed 
Frank. “Be a sport, Toby I” 

“If Toby doesn’t want us to play Phillips,” be- 
gan Arnold. 

“We haven’t any one else, though,” said Frank 
impatiently. “We can’t play them with only 
eight men !” 

“All right,” said Toby. “Go ahead. Maybe 
it won’t make any difference.” 

But it did make a difference, as was soon appar- 
ent. For when Tracey Gay had reached first on 
Tony George’s poor peg to Billy Conners, and 
Arnold had sacrificed him neatly to second, Phil- 
lips stepped to the plate in a knowing way, swung 
at Tim Chrystal’s first offering, and slammed it 
into deep right for two bases, scoring Gay. One 
more tally was added before the Towners suc- 
ceeded in disposing of the third Spaniard, and 
that two-run lead held until the fourth inning. 
Then Tony George, first man up for the home 
team, got a scratch hit past shortstop and Gus 
Whelan sent him to second on a bunt, being thrown 
out at first. The next two men went out, and it 
was up to “Snub” Mooney to rescue the runner 
on second. This Snub did by dropping a “Texas 
Leaguer” behind third, Tony George getting to 
157 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


third on the hit and racing home when the fielder 
unwisely threw to second to get Snub. Snub slid 
into the bag unchallenged, and Tony got to the 
plate before the ball from second baseman reached 
the catcher. 

But the Spaniards came back in their inning and 
added two more tallies, making the score 4 to i. 
In the fifth the Towners went down in one, two, 
three style, for Frank Lamson was pitching a much 
better game than a fortnight before and the whole 
team from the Head was playing together in very 
snappy form. There was some improvement in 
the Towners as well, but they displayed an un- 
fortunate disposition to make errors at critical 
times. Tim Chrystal was slanting them over in 
good shape, but both Phillips and George Dodson 
found him for long hits every time they came up. 
The game held more excitement than had the first 
contest, and Mr. Trainor, very warm and perspir- 
ing, was forced to make a number of close de- 
cisions at bases. Whenever he did so loud hoots 
of derision came from under the green sunshade ! 
Mr. Trainor’s office was no sinecure that hot 
afternoon ! 

It was the seventh that saw things happen. 
Manuel Sousa waited and got his base. iVlorgan 
laid down a bunt half-way to the pitcher’s box, 


TRICK FOR TRICK 


and Frank juggled the ball and both runners were 
safe. “Snub” Mooney went out, third baseman to 
first, advancing the runners. Tim Chrystal, who 
had so far failed to connect, smashed a line drive 
into short center. Sousa and Morgan tallied, but 
Tim was out in an attempt to reach second on the 
throw-in. With two gone, the inning looked about 
over, but Toby, next up, took advantage of 
Frank’s momentary let-down and pushed the ball 
down the third base line just out of reach of the 
accomplished Phillips, who had so far fielded his 
position like a veteran — which he probably was. 
After that, although Frank threw to first repeat- 
edly in an effort to catch him, Toby stole second 
on the third delivery, beating the throw by inches 
only, — but beating it. Billy Conners fouled off two 
strikes, watched two balls go past him, fouled an- 
other for good measure, and then landed on a 
drop and raised it high and far into center field. 

Hal Mason had scarcely to move out of his 
tracks to take it, but somehow he let it get away 
from him after it had settled into his hands, and 
Toby, legging it like a jack rabbit, raced around 
third and slid the last ten feet to the plate in a 
cloud of yellow dust and scored without question. 
Then Tubby Knowles, desperate and determined, 
tried his very best to bring Billy Conners in from 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


second but only succeeded in popping a fly to 
shortstop. But the score had changed to 4 to 4, 
and the Towners had bright visions of another 
victory. 

Tim Chrystal began badly, though, by passing 
Frank Lamson. Then Mason singled to left and 
George Dodson sent a long fly to Tubby Knowles, 
which that rotund youth captured after a breath- 
taking sprint, almost to the foul line. Frank took 
third and Mason reached second. 

Tracey Gay rolled one toward third. Frank 
scored and Tracey was safe at first on a wide peg 
by Tony George. Tracey stole and a moment 
later Arnold worked Tim for a pass and filled 
the bases with but one down. Things looked bad 
then for the Towners, and no better when the 
renowned Phillips, after a conference between 
Toby and Tim, was purposely passed, forcing in 
another tally. Then, however, Pete Lord struck 
out and the Spaniard’s shortstop, after knocking 
two screeching fouls in among the carriages and 
automobiles and almost producing heart failure 
in the Towners, popped a weak fly to Billy Con- 
ners at first, and Toby drew a deep breath of re- 
lief. 

The Towners came back in the eighth with an- 
other tally, making the score 6 to5, when Manuel 
160 


TRICK FOR TRICK 


Sousa, with one down and Gus Whelan on sec- 
ond, landed on one of Frank’s fast ones and drove 
it far out into right field. Tracey Gay got under 
it and made a spectacular catch, but his throw-in 
was short, and by the time Arnold had got it and 
relayed it to the plate Gus Whelan had tallied. 
Try as they might, however, the Towners could 
not even up the score, for Chuck Morgan, after 
beating out a slow bunt, was caught going down 
to second. 

The Spaniards went to bat with the evident 
intention of putting the game on ice there and 
then, for First Baseman Lord connected with the 
first ball Tim offered him and slammed it so hard 
at Chuck Morgan that Chuck had to drop it and 
hunt around before he could get his stinging 
hands on it once more. Then Frank tried to bunt 
twice and failed, and, with two strikes and one ball 
on him, rolled one down to third. 

Tony George threw to second too late and 
both runners were safe. Then, however, Tim 
struck out Hal Mason and Dodson, and, swinging 
fearsomely, only succeeded in sending a foul to 
Tony George which that youth juggled but event- 
ually saved. Tracy Gay got a safety past third, 
but Lord decided not to try for the plate, since 
Tubby Knowles had come in fast and had scooped 
161 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


up the ball before Lord was well around third. 
With the bases full, Arnold went to bat looking 
very determined. But there were two down and, 
as Tim refused to send him anything he could line 
out, he finally brought the inning to an end by 
flying out to center fielder. 

Snub Mooney, first up for the Towners in the 
ninth, drew a base on balls, but was out when 
Tim Chrystal hit to shortstop. Tim went on sec- 
ond when Toby placed a short fly behind first 
base that no one could reach. Then Billy Con- 
ners hit down the alley between shortstop and 
third, and suddenly the bases were full with only 
one out, and the Towners on the bench and their 
friends in the stand were shouting joyfully. Per- 
haps it was the noise and the vociferous coaching 
of the opponents that affected Frank Lamson’s 
command of the ball. At all events, after pitch- 
ing two into the dirt and one over Tubby Knowles’s 
head, he worked a drop over for a strike and 
then plugged Tubby in the ribs. Tubby very 
promptly sat down on the plate and stared speech- 
lessly, breathlessly, and accusingly at the pitcher 
until Tim trotted in from third and prodded him 
into activity with his toe. 

“Beat it, Tubby!” said Tim. “Go ahead 
down ! You’ve tied the score !” 

162 


TRICK FOR TRICK 


Tubby, amidst laughter and wild acclaim, got 
to his feet groaning loudly and, a hand pressed 
anxiously to his side, limped to first. The Town- 
ers whooped joyously. The score was 6-6, the 
bases were still full, and there was but one out ! 

Frank Lamson and Catcher Dodson met and 
talked it over, and then Arnold walked in from 
second and they talked it over some more. And 
the enemy hooted and gibed and demanded action. 
Frank went back to the mound and Arnold to his 
position. On the bases the runners, encouraged 
by shrill shouts from the coachers, took long leads. 
Toby, at third, ran half-way to the plate on 
Frank’s first wind-up, with the result that the de- 
livery was wild and Dodson only prevented a tally 
by blocking the ball with his body. Then Frank 
threw to third quickly and unexpectedly and Toby 
had a narrow escape. Once more Frank tried it, 
but this time Toby was watchful. Then Frank 
walked out of the box and signaled to Phillips, 
and the third baseman advanced some ten feet 
from base to meet him. Frank kept an eye on 
Toby while he and Phillips conferred, and al- 
though Snub Mooney raised a wonderful racket 
back of base and Toby threatened dashes to the 
plate, the latter had no chance to get home. Frank 
and Phillips whispered with heads very close and 
163 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


then Phillips returned to the bag, Frank walked 
back to the box, apparently rubbing the ball with 
his hands, and Toby danced along the path again. 
And then — well, then Phillips took the ball from 
under his arm, stepped after Toby and dug him 
none too gently in the ribs with it! And Mr. 
Trainor waved his hand and said, “Out at third!” 
in a rather disgusted tone of voice. And Toby, 
surprised, dismayed and, it must be confessed, de- 
cidedly peeved, dropped his head and joined Snub 
on the coaching line. 

“That’s a kid trick,” he said to Phillips, con- 
temptuously. 

“Bush league stuff,” supplemented Snub. “Why 
don’t you play the game fairly?” 

The big third baseman grinned mockingly as 
he turned after throwing the ball back to Frank. 
“Keep your eyes open, fellows,” he replied. 
“You’re easy!” 

By that time the Towners had flocked across 
from the bench, protesting angrily. “Hiding the 
ball’s forbidden,” declared Gus Whelan. “How 
about that, Mr. Umpire?” 

“He’s out,” replied Mr. Trainor, calmly. Gus 
and the others sputtered, but Toby sent them back. 

“There’s no rule against the hidden-ball trick,” 
he told them. “It was my fault. I ought to have 


TRICK FOR TRICK 


seen it. It’s all right, though, fellows. We only- 
want one run. Let’s have it. Hit it out, 
Tony!” 

But Tony swung helplessly under one of Frank’s 
fast ones and let the third delivery go by and 
heard it called a strike. 

“Gee, I wish he could hit it,” muttered Toby to 
Snub. “If we can only get Billy to third we can 
get him in. I’ll coach here. You beat it down to 
first, Snub, and take it there. Manuel’s up after 
Gus.” 

Frank tried the batter with a wide one that 
didn’t fool him, and it was two and two. 

“It only takes one, Tony!” called Toby. “Pick 
out a good one !” 

And Tony did that very thing the next instant 
when Frank tried to sneak one over in the groove. 
Tony met it not quite squarely, but he met it and 
the ball shot across the infield and for the first mo- 
ment looked like a safe hit. But Arnold dashed 
to the right and, although he couldn’t make the 
catch, knocked the ball down. Billy Conners was 
turning third, but Toby seized him and shoved 
him back by main force, for Arnold had recov- 
ered the ball and finding that he was too late to 
get the runner at second or first, was pegging to 
the plate. 

165 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“I could have made it l” gasped Billy, disap- 
pointedly. 

“You didn’t have a chance,” answered Toby. 
“Now listen. Hug your base until I shout ‘GO!’ 
and then don’t stop to look or anything. Just beat 
it! Understand?” 

“All right.” Billy got his foot on the base while 
Frank received the ball back from the catcher and 
glanced around the field. The bases were filled 
once more and at the plate Gus Whelan w r as tap- 
ping his bat eagerly. 

“Two gone, fellows!” called Arnold. “Play 
for the batter!” 

Frank folded his fingers around the ball and 
settled for the wind-up. And at that instant Toby 
stepped across the base path and held up his hand. 

“Hi, Frank!” he called. “That ball’s ripped! 
We want another one!” 

Frank looked the ball over. “No, it isn’t. It’s 
perfectly all right.” 

“I tell you it is ripped! Let’s see it!” 

“Go on and play the game,” shouted Phillips. 

“I want to see that ball,” demanded Toby, ad- 
vancing into the diamond. 

“It’s all right, I tell you,” replied Frank im- 
patiently. “Get off the field, Toby.” 

“If it’s all right show it to me then.” 


TRICK FOR TRICK 


Frank muttered, stepped out of the box and 
tossed the ball to Toby. “Have a look, then, and 
hurry up,” he growled. 

“Go!” yelled Toby. Instantly Billy Conners 
streaked for the plate, Toby stepped to one side 
and the ball went bounding across the base line. 
Pandemonium reigned. From second came 
Tubby, galloping for all he was worth, from first 
raced Tony. Phillips, after an instant of surprise, 
scurried after the ball. Billy swept across the 
plate. Toby waved Tubby on. Over near the 
fringe of the autos and traps Phillips was scoop- 
ing up the ball. But by the time he had rescued 
it Tubby was rolling over and over in a cloud of 
dust across the plate and Tony was sliding, more 
scientifically but no less effectually, into third! 

The entire infield flocked about the umpire. 
Six voices shouted together. At first Toby smiled 
gently and winked at Tony George. And Tony, 
breathless but delighted, sat on the bag and winked 
back. 

“One trick,” murmured Toby pleasantly, “calls 
for another.” 

All the protests failed to aid the Spaniards and 
Mr. Trainor patiently explained that as time had 
not been asked for or called, the ball was still in 
play. “Your pitcher,” he said, “threw the ball 
167 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


out of the field and the runners scored, as they 
had a perfect right to do.” 

“But Tucker called for the ball!” exclaimed 
Frank. “It was a trick! He hadn’t any 
right ” 

“There’s nothing in the rules forbidding that,” 
answered the umpire gently. “You didn’t have 
to throw it to him, you know.” 

“You call that fair playing?” demanded Phil- 
lips bitterly. 

“According to the rules of the game it’s fair,” 
was the response. “I can’t go back of the rules.” 

“It’s a low-down, measley trick!” declared 
Frank hotly. “Those runners ought to be sent 
back, Mr. Trainor.” 

“It was a trick, of course,” was the reply. “But 
so is hiding the ball, don’t you think? One isn’t 
any worse than the other and the rules don’t pro- 
hibit either, Lamson. Play ball, please.” 

But it was several minutes later before the Span- 
iards accepted the inevitable with bad grace and 
went back to their positions. As for Arnold, 
though, it is only fair to say that he made little 
protest, for he was possessed both of a sense of 
humor and a sense of justice. Phillips, however, 
scowled darkly at Toby and Tony as he returned 
to his base. 


168 


TRICK FOR TRICK 


“Cheating,’’ he said grumpily, “is the only 
way you fellows could win.” 

“Keep your eyes open,” replied Toby sweetly. 

Then the game went on. But the Spaniards had 
lost their grip, and Frank Lamson, too angry to 
care much what happened, passed Gus Whelan 
and allowed Manuel Sousa to land against a 
straight ball and send it speeding over shortstop’s 
head. Tony trotted home unhurriedly and Gus 
took second. Chuck Morgan brought the inning 
to an end by fouling out to the catcher. 

After that, with the score 9 to 6, the Towners 
had only to hold their opponents for the last of 
the ninth, and, although Tim Chrystal threatened 
to make trouble for himself by passing the first 
man up, he soon settled down again, and by the 
time the runner had stolen second and reached 
third on a put-out at first there were two down* 
and Frank Lamson ended the contest by ignomin- 
iously striking out. 

The Spaniards’ cheer for the victors was no- 
ticeably faint. 


CHAPTER XIV 


TOBY IS DOWNHEARTED 

T HE next morning the Johnstown ferry be- 
gan operations, at least theoretically. 
As a matter of fact, no one had appeared 
by nine o’clock, and, after pondering the mat- 
ter, the boys decided to omit the first trip, 
arguing that if there were no passengers at 
this end there’d be none at the other, or, if 
there were, it wouldn’t hurt them to wait until 
11.30! Toby was disappointed and showed 
it. He hadn’t expected that the capacity of the 
Urrtove would be taxed on its maiden voyage as 
a ferryboat, but he had looked forward to having 
at least one passenger. Sitting idly there in the 
hot sun on the hard seats of the little gray launch 
made one feel decidedly flat! Arnold, though, 
was not in the least downcast. He had more per- 
fectly plausible reasons for the lack of patronage 
than Toby, in an unnaturally pessimistic frame of 
mind, could counter. “You wait until eleven,” 
said Arnold cheerfully. “Bet you we’ll have three 
or four then 1” 

When it was evident that there was to be no 
170 


TOBY IS DOWNHEARTED 

excuse for making the nine o’clock trip they went 
up the gangplank and found seats in the shade of 
a shed at the end of the wharf, and presently Toby 
forgot his disappointment. They talked of yes- 
terday’s ball game and Arnold, who had gone off 
the field a little bit peeved, today laughed at his 
grouch. “You surely turned the trick on us, Toby ! 
Frank was as mad as — as ” 

“As mustard,” interjected Toby helpfully. 

Arnold accepted the simile doubtfully. “Well, 
he was some peeved, anyhow. He says you didn’t 
play fair, but I told him ” 

“I didn’t,” responded Toby. 

“Well, no more did we.” 

“That wasn’t any reason for my pulling that 
raw trick, though. The trouble was that I got 
mad at being caught off third like that, and wanted 
to get square.” 

“Well, I don’t blame you. That hide-the-ball 
business was got up by Frank and Phillips. I 
didn’t know anything about it until they pulled it. 
I don’t like that sort of piffle. Toby, I say if 
you’re going to play ball, why, play ball!” 

“Yes, we both — both teams, I mean — played 
baby. I wished afterward I hadn’t done it. Even 
when you win like that you don’t really feel right 
about it. Anyway, I don’t.” 

171 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Shucks, what’s the odds ! I’ll own I was sort 
of sore yesterday, but now I’m glad you did it. 
It was only what we deserved. Besides, it’s made 
Frank so grouchy he can’t see straight. He’s go- 
ing to keep the team going and try to get you 
fellows to play again. He called me a quitter 
and got quite nasty about it.” 

“If he keeps at it long enough,” observed Toby 
dryly, “he’s bound to beat us. What time is it?” 

“Twenty-five to ten,” answered Arnold. “We 
don’t have to sit here, so let’s go over and see how 
the boat’s getting on. Say, I wish we could think 
of a name for her.” 

“All names I like you don’t,” said Toby as they 
ascended the lane to Harbor Street. “Why don’t 
you do the way we did with the T urnover ? Knock 
off the first and last letters, I mean.” 

Arnold stared blankly. “Knock off But 

we haven’t got any letters yet, you idiot!” 

“That’s so,” replied Toby demurely. “Let’s 
go to the postoffice.” 

Arnold swung about obediently before he 
thought to ask, “What for?” 

“To get some letters,” said Toby. 

Arnold tried to reach him with the toe of one 
water-stained white buckskin shoe, but was foiled 
by Toby’s agility, and they went on again. “There 
172 


TOBY IS DOWNHEARTED 


was a yawl I knew once called Saucy Sal” ob- 
served Arnold presently. 

“How well did you know her?” asked Toby. 

“You’re too bright for anything today!” said 
the other, in a grieved tone. “If you’re so smart 
why don’t you think of a name for me?” 

“I didn’t know you wanted one. I can think 
of several,” said Toby significantly, “but you 
mightn’t like them.” 

“I mean for the boat, you chump! It’ll be 
ready to launch before we know it, and you just 
can’t launch a boat without a name !” 

“All right, Arn, I’ll put my giant intellect at 
work tonight. I always think better after I’m in 
bed, don’t you?” 

“No, I don’t. When I get to bed I go to sleep.” 

“So do I after a while, but I always think things 
over first.” 

“Now don’t forget that we ought to be back at 
the landing at a quarter to eleven. The trouble 
with you is that when you get in there looking at 
that knockabout you forget everything.” 

“There’s one thing I don’t forget,” chuckled 
Arnold, “and that’s dinner !” 

They were back on the float at a little past the 
half-hour and Toby seized a rag and performed 
a lot of quite unnecessary polishing during the en- 
173 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


suing wait. Perhaps it relieved his nervousness. 
At a quarter to eleven Chuck Morgan and Snub 
Mooney descended the gangplank. Chuck had 
thirty-five cents and Snub twenty-two, and they 
tried to engineer a deal whereby they were to be 
taken across to Johnstown and back for fifty-seven 
cents in cash and a promise of eighteen cents more 
at some future date. Snub said he thought Toby 
ought to make a special rate to his friends. 

“I will,” said Toby. “I’ll take one of you over 
and back for fifty-seven or I’ll take you both one 
way for it. Which do you choose?” 

“Oh, go on, Toby! Have a heart! Honest, 
we’ll pay you the other eighteen, won’t we, Chuck? 
I’ll give it to you tomorrow, or maybe next 
day.” 

“This is business, Snub,” answered Toby em- 
phatically. “If you fellows want to make the trip 
over and back I’ll take you this once for nothing. 
But the next time you’ll have to pay full fare, 
friends or no friends.” 

“All right,” agreed Snub cheerfully. “I guess 
we won’t ever want to go again! Anybody else 
coming?” 

Toby looked at the town clock and shook his 
head, trying not to appear disappointed. “I guess 
not this trip,” he replied. 

174 


TOBY IS DOWNHEARTED 


“Better wait five minutes more,” said Arnold, 
“in case some one’s late, you know.” 

But Toby shook his head resolutely. “They’ve 
got to be on time if they’re coming with me. This 
ferry sails right on the hour. Cast off that line, 
Arn, will you?” 

And so, after all, the Urnove made its first trip, 
if not without passengers, at least without profit. 
But when she was out of the harbor, with the 
waves slapping at her bow and the fresh breeze 
ruffling damp hair, both boys forgot to be down- 
cast and they had a very merry sail across the 
smiling blue water. They tied up at the little 
spindley pier at Johnstown promptly at eleven- 
twenty and waited. Now and then, ostensibly to 
get the cooler breeze above, Toby climbed to the 
pier. The approach to it was in sight for a couple 
of hundred yards and always, before returning to 
the float, Toby’s gaze wandered anxiously and 
longingly up the road. But eleven-thirty came 
without a passenger and the Urnove cast off again 
and began her homeward voyage. By that time 
Toby was frankly despondent, and he had little 
to say on the way back. It was becoming pain- 
fully evident that the Johnstown ferry was not to 
be a financial success ! 

But when he got home for dinner — Arnold had 
175 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


resisted the temptation to accept Toby’s invitation 
and had chugged back to the Head in the Frolic 
— the gloom was slightly illumined by a letter 
which Phebe put in his hand. Toby had almost 
forgotten Mr. Whitney, but the letter corrected 
that, for it announced that the contractor would 
be at the landing the next morning at eight to be 
carried over to Johnstown. Toby’s face bright- 
ened. Mr. Whitney would pay three dollars! 
Then he recalled the fact that he had decided that 
Mr. Whitney was to pay the same as others, and 
his countenance fell again. Still, if the contractor 
arrived at eight it would mean a special trip, and 
a special trip was a different matter! He deter- 
mined to lay the question before Arnold after 
dinner, being, of course, quite certain of Arnold’s 
decision ! But that letter cheered him up and he 
had no difficulty in eating a very satisfactory meal, 
and felt a whole lot better after it. 

Phebe made the trip across with them at two, 
and again at four, and if it hadn’t been that Toby 
was horribly disappointed over the absence of 
patronage they’d have had a pretty good time. 
Even as it was they enjoyed it. Between trips they 
sat, the three of them, in a shady and breezy cor- 
ner of the boat yard, from where, by craning their 
necks a bit, they could see the town landing, and 
176 


TOBY IS DOWNHEARTED 


tried to decide on a name for the knockabout. 
They canvassed every name they had ever heard 
of or could think of, but none seemed to please 
Arnold. Toby at last told him he was too hard 
to suit. 

“There aren’t any more names, I guess,” he 
said. “Not unless you get a city directory and 
go through it. I think Slap-Dash is the best. 
Don’t you, Phebe?” 

“I like Foam better. It’s prettier.” 

“Girls,” said Toby sententiously, “always want 
something pretty. Gee, I’ll bet there are eighty- 
eleven million boats called Foam!” 

“That doesn’t matter, does it?” asked Phebe. 
“I suppose there are lots of boats called Slap- 
Dash, too.” 

“Not near so many. Besides ” 

“I don’t like either of those names much,” said 
Arnold apologetically. There was a discouraged 
silence then until Phebe observed: 

“I don’t see why you don’t call it the Arnold . 
Arnold’s a pretty name ” 

“Wow !” jeered Toby. “There’s one for you, 
Arn. A pretty name for a pretty boy, eh?” 

Arnold threw a chip at him. “A fellow 
wouldn’t want to name a boat after himself,” he 
demurred. 


177 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“There was a man around here a couple of 
years ago,” said Toby, “who had a sloop he called 
the A. L . We used to say it stood for always 
last, but it was really just his initials. You might 
call yours the A. D” 

Arnold considered. “A. D.” he murmured. 
“Say, that isn’t so bad, is it? It — it’s sort of short 
and — and neat, eh?” 

“Yes, and you could call it Anno Domini for 
long,” laughed Toby. 

Arnold’s face clouded. “Yes, I suppose fel- 
lows would get up all sorts of silly meanings for 
it. If it wasn’t for that ” 

Phebe clapped her hands. “I’ve got it!” she 
cried. “Call it the Aydee!” 

“That’s what we said,” began Toby. 

“No, not the letters, Toby,” explained Phebe. 
“ ‘A-y-d-e-e,’ Aydee! I think that would be 
lovely !” 

“That’s not so worse,” commented Arnold, 
reaching for a chip and his pencil. “Let’s see what 
it would look like.” He printed it in capital let- 
ters, viewed it, and passed it around. “I think 
it’s clever, Toby. Folks wouldn’t know it stood 
for anything, would they? It sounds like — like 
a name out of the ‘Arabian Nights,’ or — or some- 
thing.” 


17 * 


TOBY IS DOWNHEARTED 


“ Aydee it is, then,” declared Toby. ‘‘Funny, 
but I was just going to suggest that myself I” 

“Yes, you were!” Arnold jeered. “Like fun! 
That’s Phebe’s name, and Phebe will have to 
christen her! We’ll have a regular christening 
ceremony, folks, and break a bottle of — of ” 

“Root beer,” suggested Toby. 

“Well, something over her bow as she glides — 
glides ” 

“And I’ll recite ‘The Launching of the Ship,’ ” 
said Toby, “and you’ll wave a couple of flags 
and ” 

“And Mr. Murphy will scream ‘All hands!’ ” 
laughed Phebe. “It will be a perfectly wonderful 
affair, Arnold!” 

“Well, it will. You wait and see.” Arnold 
jumped up. “Come on and we’ll go and tell Long 
Tim what her name is. Would you have it painted 
on in gold, Toby, or would you put brass letters 
on?” 

“Brass letters. Gold-leaf comes off too easily. 
You two go ahead. I’m going back to the land- 
ing. It’s almost four.” 

After the Urnove had returned from her last 
trip and was tied to the boat-yard pier again, and 
Arnold had slipped out of sight in the Frolic , 
Toby and Phebe walked across the yard and the 
179 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


road and perched themselves on the stone steps 
of the cottage. “I guess,” said Toby after a lit- 
tle silence, “it isn’t going to go.” 

“I’m awfully sorry,” murmured Phebe. “But 
you won’t give up after just one day, will you?” 

“N-no, I guess I’ll finish out the week. There’s 
just tomorrow and Saturday. If something 
doesn’t happen by then I’ll call it off. It’s funny, 
too, sis, for I’ll just bet you anything lots of folks 
went over to Johnstown today by road. Why 
couldn’t they let me take ’em over? It wouldn’t 
have cost any more. Not so much!” 

“Maybe they don’t know about it yet,” said 
Phebe encouragingly. “It takes time to — to get 
things started, you know.” 

“Some one ought to know about it by this time,” 
replied the boy disconsolately. “If we’d only had 
one passenger it wouldn’t have been so bad, but 
not to have had any ” 

“Toby, I’m just as sure as anything that you’ll 
do better tomorrow !” 

“Well, I couldn’t do much worse,” Toby an- 
swered ruefully. “Let’s go in.” 


CHAPTER XV 


PHEBE CHRISTENS THE KNOCKABOUT 

M R. WHITNEY was prompt the next 
morning, and the trip across was made 
in record time, the little Urnove do- 
ing a good twelve miles an hour. On the 
way Toby told about the ferry line, and Mr. 
Whitney was interested and sympathetic. “Bet- 
ter give it a fair trial before you decide that 
you’re beaten,” he advised. “Holding on is a 
wonderful thing, my boy. I know, for I’ve tried 
it. If I’d given up every time I seemed to have 
been beaten I’d be — well, I guess I’d be back at 
the bench where I started. Lots of times I 
wanted to let go, but didn’t, and won through 
just holding on. Remember the story of the two 
flies — or was it frogs? — that fell in the pan of 
milk? One gave up and drowned — couldn’t have 
been a frog, I guess ! — and the other kept on swim- 
ming and churned the milk into butter and climbed 
out ! You’d better keep on swimming a bit longer, 
T. Tucker!” 

Mr. Whitney refused to compromise on the 
1 8 1 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


price of the fare. Toby, conferring with Arnold, 
had decided that a dollar would be about right for 
passage one way and a dollar and a half for the 
round trip. But the passenger insisted on sticking 
to the agreement. “If I go over with you on a 
regularly scheduled sailing,” he said, smiling, “I’ll 
pay the regular ferry price, but if it’s a special 
trip you’ll have to take a dollar and a half each 
way. Sorry to have to refuse you, son !” 

Toby grinned. “It doesn’t seem quite fair, 
though. When will you be coming back, sir?” 

“Let me see, now. When’s the last regular 
sailing?” 

“Four-thirty, sir, from this side.” 

“Too early. How about five-fifteen or five- 
thirty? Can you come over for me then?” 

“Oh, yes, sir. Only, of course, if you could 
get the four-thirty it would be cheaper.” 

“T. Tucker, I can do enough work in that hour 
to make up the difference!” Mr. Whitney’s eyes 
twinkled. “There are two kinds of economy, my 
hoy, good and bad. When you lose twenty dol- 
lars to save one it’s bad. Five-thirty, then!” 

Arnold was waiting at the town landing when 
the TJrnove nosed up to it again, a good twenty 
minutes before nine. He was all excitement. 
“Say, Toby, what do you think? There was a 
182 


THE KNOCKABOUT 


man down here a bit ago asking about the ferry I 
He — he wanted to know what boat ran over there 
and I showed him the Frolic . He said he’d be 
back.” 

Toby laughed. “That means we’ll have to run 
the Frolic then. He might not go if we asked 
him into this tub ! Are you — do you think he will 
come back?” 

“Yes, he said he was just going up to the store 
and would be back before nine. I tried to get him 
to stay, but he edged off.” 

“Well, then we’ll tie this old lady up and use 
the Frolic . Got plenty of gas?” 

“Full up! Gee, Toby, I hope he comes back!” 

“So do I,” agreed Toby. 

And he did ! He came shuffling down the gang- 
plank at five minutes to nine, carrying so 
many bundles that Toby wondered whether he 
ought to charge him freight! No one else ap- 
peared and the Frolic cast off and headed for 
Johnstown. The passenger seemed greatly de- 
lighted with the Frolic and the method of trans- 
portation, and vowed he was going to tell his 
neighbors about them. “I generally come over 
here a couple of times a month,” he explained. 
“I traded a horse last winter to Job Trasker, the 
feller that has the store up near the church, and 

183 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


I’m takin’ it out in groceries and things. I’m right 
pleased to get over and back this way, boys, be- 
cause it used to take me most half the day to make 
the trip by train. I ain’t got any horse now, so I 
can’t drive over. Why, I had to get up close to 
five o’clock this mornin’ to get the early train and 
be back by ten !” 

“The next time,” said Toby, “you could take the 
nine-thirty ferry from Johnstown and get the 
eleven o’clock back, I guess. You’d have more 
than an hour in Greenhaven.” 

“That’s what I’ll do. I ain’t so fond of pilin’ 
out o’ bed at five o’clock as I used to be. I’m get- 
ting on now.” 

Perhaps he was, but he didn’t look it, for 
he was straight and tall and wiry, and, save for 
the wrinkles on his leathery face and the grizzled 
hair above, he might have been mistaken for a 
man of not over fifty. But he owned proudly to 
seventy-one ! “Sensible livin’ did it,” he declared. 
“Plenty o’ work in the fresh air, good victuals and 
not too much of ’em, and bed every night at nine 
o’clock.” 

Arnold said he didn’t think he’d like the last 
feature, which set Mr. Griscom — Artemus Gris- 
com was his whole name, he told them — off on a 
homily regarding the benefits of “early to bed and 
184 


THE KNOCKABOUT 


early to rise” that brought them to the landing. 
Toby bade Mr. Griscom good-by with sentiments 
of gratitude, and the old gentleman went off assur- 
ing them that he had had “a right nice ride in your 
boat.” 

No one appeared to go back on the Frolic , 
although they watched the road anxiously until the 
last moment. But Mr. Griscom had, as it proved, 
broken the ice, for two passengers were on hand 
for the eleven o’clock trip, a lady and a little girl 
of about eight. Toby was so pleased that he read- 
ily acceded to the lady’s request that the little v girl 
be charged only half-price ! “That’s what I pay 
on the railroad for her,” she explained, “and on 
the trolley I don’t pay anything, but I guess you 
wouldn’t want to carry her for nothing,” she 
added apologetically. Toby acknowledged that he 
wouldn’t and declared himself satisfied with half- 
fare. The lady was rather nervous during the 
trip, but the child had a fine time and would un- 
doubtedly have been over the side into the water 
if Arnold hadn’t detailed himself to restrain her 
antics ! 

There were no more passengers that day, but 
Toby was encouraged. “We took in a dollar and 
a quarter,” he said, “and if we did that every day 
it would be — it would be seven dollars and a half 
185 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


a week! And then there’s the three dollars from 
Mr. Whitney!” 

“It’s too bad he doesn’t have to go across every 
day,” said Phebe, who had joined the boys on the 
wharf in time for the final trip. “I should think 
he’d need to.” 

“You might suggest it to him,” laughed Toby as 
he prepared to return to Johnstown to keep his 
five-thirty appointment. “You get in and come 
over with me, and you can tell him about it on the 
way back.” 

But Phebe shook her head, and she and Arnold 
got into the Frolic \, and the two launches raced out 
of the harbor and half-way across the bay. But 
Toby’s little boat was no match for the Frolic , and 
after a while the white launch came around, Phebe 
and Arnold waving their hands as they passed the 
Urnove on their way back. Mr. Whitney was 
waiting at the landing, and as he seated himself in 
the boat he took his hat off and laid it beside him. 
“It’s been a hot day, T. Tucker,” he said with a 
sigh. “Take all the time you want going back. 
This breeze is fine !” 

So Toby not only let the engine idle but stood 
straight across to the Head and then turned back 
along the shore, lengthening the trip, to Mr. Whit- 
ney’s pleasure and his own satisfaction, for he felt 
186 


THE KNOCKABOUT 


that he was coming nearer to earning that three 
dollars ! “I ought to pay more this time,” said the 
passenger, as he disembarked at the town float. 
“You didn’t bargain to take me on a pleasure 
cruise !” 

But Toby smiled and said that part was a pres- 
ent, and Mr. Whitney went off to find a carriage 
to take him over to the railroad after arranging 
for another trip to Johnstown on Monday morn- 
ing. Toby chugged across the cove and tied up 
at the home dock and then hurried to supper, jing- 
ling the coins in his pocket in time to the tune he 
was whistling. Four dollars and a quarter ! Toby 
had visions of opulence ! And, better still, he had 
visions of Yardley Hall School! 

The next day he realized that he should have 
added the words “Weather permitting” to his no- 
tice, for there was a south-east gale blowing and, 
although Toby would willingly have made the trip 
if necessary, he knew that no one would think of 
trusting themselves to the launch today. He be- 
grudged the possible loss of income, but was well 
enough satisfied to stay on land. It rained at 
times, but never enough to flatten out the waves 
that piled themselves up outside the harbor. 
Arnold came over on foot after dinner, clothed in 
oilskins, and they spent the rest of the day watch- 

187 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


ing Long Tim put the first coat of paint on the 
Aydee, now almost ready to take the water, and 
in putting away most of a pan of fudge which 
Phebe made. They also tried to add to Mr. Mur- 
phy’s education, but with no success. The parrot 
was in a most unreceptive mood today and only 
eyed them morosely from his perch. Arnold’s 
attempts to make him say ‘‘Toby is a chump” 
met with no response except sober winks. 

The gale held most of Sunday, but Monday was 
fair again, the wind having shifted around to the 
west over night. Mr. Whitney went over to 
Johnstown at eight and returned again at two- 
thirty. Toby brought his first passenger from the 
other side on that trip, a wizened little man who 
explained that Art Griscom had told him about the 
ferry. Apparently, like the stranger at the fu- 
neral, he “only just went for the ride,” for after 
getting to Greenhaven he remained safely in the 
launch and went back in it at four, paying his sev- 
enty-five cents quite enthusiastically and promising 
to come again soon and bring his wife with him. 

But no one else took advantage of the ferry 
that day, and Toby began to have doubts again. 
On Tuesday, however, business looked up with a 
vengeance, for Arnold had been talking of the 
ferry to his friends at the Head, and at nine 
1 88 


THE KNOCKABOUT 


o’clock the Frolic set sail with eight passengers, 
most of them members of the ball team. Frank 
Lamson was with them, and Frank, just at first, 
was inclined to be stand-offish with Toby. But by 
the time that last game had been talked over and 
threshed out, and George Dodson and Tracey Gay 
and Arnold had declared that Toby’s trick had 
been no more than they deserved, and others had 
agreed, amity was restored, and Frank thawed 
out. The crowd explored Johnstown and returned 
again at eleven-thirty and Toby pocketed the mu* 
nificent sum of six dollars ! 

That, as it proved, was the turning point. 
From that time on the success of the ferry line 
was never in doubt. You couldn’t have called its 
success phenomenal, for there were plenty of days 
when two passengers were all that patronized the 
launch, and when, as infrequently happened, a 
storm kicked up the waters of the bay there 
weren’t any! But at the end of a fortnight of 
operation Toby discovered that he had actually 
averaged the four passengers a day that, when 
planning the project, had seemed quite fabulous. 
Now, though, he was far less satisfied with that 
scanty number and set his heart on seeing it 
doubled. He never did, but there was a gradual 
increase of patronage as the summer advanced 
189 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


and folks learned that they could visit the neigh- 
boring town quickly, comfortably and safely. 
There is no denying that many a passenger viewed 
Toby doubtfully on the first trip, but never after- 
ward, for the boy, in spite of his youthfulness, 
could manage a motorboat as well as any man in 
Greenhaven. Arnold usually made the trips with 
his chum, but now and then, as the novelty wore 
off, he “turned up missing.” The Frolic was used 
only infrequently for the reason that Toby held 
himself to strict account for gasoline and oil and 
it was something of a bother measuring out pints 
and ounces to replace what had been used. 

Meanwhile the ball games between Towners 
and Spaniards went on and the boys from the 
Head at last achieved a victory, defeating the team 
captained by Billy Conners by the, to them, satis- 
factory score of 12 to 4. After that, in the four 
contests that occurred, the two teams split even. 
But it was an ironical circumstance that the par- 
ticular one of those later contests in which Arnold 
took part, playing his old position at second base, 
was the one in which the Spaniards were most con- 
clusively worsted ! After it was over Arnold con- 
fided to Toby that he guessed he would stick to 
being a ferryman ! 

However, he didn’t, because at about that time 
190 


THE KNOCKABOUT 


the Ay dee was launched with much pomp and cere- 
mony and Arnold bought himself a very nautical 
outfit of white duck and whistled “A Life on the 
Ocean Wave,” much out of tune but with a fine 
persistence 1 

The launching took place bright and early one 
Friday morning. Long Tim declared that “a boat 
launched on a Friday would never have no luck,” 
but Arnold was too impatient to wait another day. 
Phebe, standing on a board — it lacked an hour 
of high tide and the mud at the foot of the 
little railway was particularly soft and black and 
clinging — broke a bottle of spring water against 
the bow and declaimed “I christen thee Aydee!” 
Whereupon Mr. Tucker eased on the tackle, the 
knockabout slid down the ways, and, amidst the 
cheers of Toby and Arnold and Long Tim and 
Shorty, floated out on the cove. The reason that 
Phebe didn’t join her voice with the others in 
exultant acclaim was that the Aydee , on its way to 
the water, had impolitely pushed against her and 
for the ensuing minute she was very busy waving 
the neck of a broken bottle, adorned with a light 
blue hair ribbon, in an effort to maintain her bal- 
ance on the plank. 

The rest of that day and all of the next was 
devoted to stepping the mast and adjusting the 
191 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


rigging. And then Long Tim got busy with his 
paint-pots again, and so it was Monday before 
the proud skipper could slip his mooring and put 
to sea on the trial trip. 


CHAPTER XVI 


LOST IN THE FOG 

T HE Ay dee conformed to tne limitations 
of the nearby yacht clubs and was 
along the lines of many similar boats 
that Mr. Tucker had built. She was twenty- 
one feet load water-line by seven feet and 
three inches beam, with a free board of twen- 
ty-two inches. She was half-decked, had no bow- 
sprit, and carried some five hundred square feet of 
canvas in her mainsail and working jib. She was 
painted white, with a single gold line, and bore 
her name on the stern in brass letters. When, 
that Monday morning, Arnold and Toby hoisted 
the creamy-white mainsail and jib and the knock- 
about, catching the little puffs of air that wandered 
down over the village hill, moved slowly out of the 
cove, she presented a sight to gladden the heart 
of even the veriest landlubber. 

Arnold had his first lesson in seamanship that 
morning. Toby started him at the bottom and 
made him learn every part of the yacht by name — 
hull, sails, spars, and rigging — and not until Ar- 
193 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


nold could tell him instantly which was the peak 
and which was the clew, and so on, would he ad- 
vance his pupil. Then Arnold committed to mem- 
ory the names and purposes of halyards and stays 
and tackles and sheet, or tried to, very impatient 
all the time to graduate from such kindergarten 
lore to the more advanced courses of beating and 
reaching and tacking. But Toby was a stern mas- 
ter and that morning all the Ay dee did in the hour 
that they were out in her was to float slowly out 
of the harbor, bob around for a time outside, and 
then demurely return to moorings at the boat yard. 
Arnold stayed aboard while Toby made the first 
trip over to Johnstown with an Armenian ped- 
dler as passenger and, sprawled across the stern, 
rubbed the brass letters to a condition of painful 
brilliancy. 

The lessons continued that day between ferry 
trips and for many days after, until Arnold could 
be trusted to sail the Ay dee in and out of the har- 
bor without bumping anchored craft or running 
ashore at the point. I’m not going to tell you that 
Arnold was an apt pupil, for he wasn’t. Sailing a 
boat isn’t the most difficult science in the world, but 
it is a science, and one that Arnold found it hard 
to master. There were several narrow escapes 
during that first week, one from capsizing out 
194 


LOST IN THE FOG 


beyond the Head when a sudden flurry of wind, a 
squall in miniature, found Arnold, to use his own 
phrase, “asleep at the switch” ! And it was al- 
ways an interesting moment when Arnold picked 
up his moorings. Sometimes he did it the first try, 
but more often he spent five or ten minutes jock- 
eying around, with a hard-hearted and critical 
Toby sitting idly by with the boat-hook. Once the 
Aydee ran plumb on top of the town float, and 
Arnold, gazing disgustedly about and wiping the 
perspiration from his streaming face, gave it as 
his opinion that the knockabout was trying to get 
up to the drug store for a glass of soda ! Save 
that a little lead was scraped from her stem, the 
Aydee was not damaged. Phebe frequently ac- 
companied them on their short voyages, which so 
far never extended beyond the inner bay, but she 
refused, politely enough but very firmly, to set foot 
on the boat when Toby was absent. The Frolic 
was only used to take Arnold back and forth from 
the Head, except when Toby infrequently took 
her to Johnstown in place of the Urnove. That 
was only when the passengers were numerous, and 
happened far too seldom! 

It was on a Sunday afternoon, some three weeks 
after the Aydee went into commission, by which 
time she boasted a silk yacht ensign and an owner’s 
195 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


pennant and flew them gaudily irrespective of all 
rules and regulations, that the knockabout met 
with her first adventure. Perhaps, though, misad- 
venture would be better. Arnold, Toby and Phebe 
embarked about half-past four for a sail down the 
bay before supper. The breeze was fair but fluky 
and Toby counseled the skipper to stay near port 
in case they were becalmed. But Arnold was too 
fond of sailing the boat to be satisfied with tacking 
about the harbor mouth, and so set off on a long 
reach toward the north shore of the bay. It was 
a fine afternoon with the glare of the sun inten- 
sified by haze. The Aydee slipped along nicely 
under mainsail and jib and the three occupants 
of the shallow cockpit made themselves comfort- 
able. There were a good many boats out and 
Arnold, at the tiller, had just enough to do to keep 
him busy. The breeze lessened when they were off 
Franklinville and, at Toby’s suggestion, they came 
about and stood away toward the end of Robins 
Island. Five minutes later the breeze died down 
completely and the sails hung limp. 

“It’ll be wooden sails for us, I guess,” said 
Toby, “if we want to get in before midnight. The 
tide’s coming and that’ll help some, but if the 
breeze doesn’t freshen again pretty quick you and 
I’d better get the oars out, Arn.” 

196 


LOST IN THE FOG 


Arnold viewed the flat sea anxiously. “What 
did it do that for?” he asked. “Just when we 
were going along so nicely. You don’t mean that 
we’ll have to row all the way back, Toby?” 

“Looks like it, doesn’t it? It’s only about seven 
miles.” 

“Seven mi — say, are you fooling?” 

“Not a bit. You needn’t look at me as if it was 
my fault, Arn. I didn’t swipe the breeze, you 
know.” 

“Of course you didn’t, but say, seven miles — 
we couldn’t do it!” 

“Oh, yes, we could if we took it easy. We’ll 
have the tide with us. Maybe we can find a tow. 
If a motorboat comes around we’ll try to get them 
to pull us a bit. Of course, the breeze may come 
back. It often does about sunset. But with this 

haze, I don’t think ” Toby paused and stared 

across the water toward the south shore. “That’s 
nice,” he muttered softly. 

“What is it?” asked Phebe. 

Toby pointed. “Fog,” he said. 

The south shore of the bay was fading from 
sight as a fog bank crept in from the ocean. Even 
as they looked the last glimpse of land disap- 
peared and, although westward the sun was shin- 
ing warmly through the haze in the southeast, the 
197 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


world was cut off from vision by a gray pall. 

“Get those oars out,” said Toby briskly. “We’d 
better start along home, I guess. We were idiots 
to come so far, anyway.” 

“A little fog won’t hurt us,” said Arnold cheer- 
fully, as he pulled the two long sweeps from un- 
der the seat. “Besides, there’s a breeze, isn’t 
there?” 

Toby glanced at the mainsail and nodded. “A 
little one, but it won’t amount to much. Put your 
boom over, Arn, and we’ll try to get what there is 
of it. You take that side and I’ll take this. Slow 
and easy, now. Don’t try to do it all at first or 
you’ll get tired for fair.” 

“I’ll take a turn, too,” Phebe volunteered. 

“Well, I guess not!” said Arnold indignantly. 
“If Toby and I can’t get this boat in we’ll stay 
out all night!” 

“Yes, but I don’t want to stay out all night,” 
laughed Phebe. “And you needn’t think I can’t 
row. I’ve done it plenty of times. Once Toby 
and I had to row all the way home from River- 
port Neck, and the boat was lots heavier than this 
one, too.” 

“Yes, Phebe can swing an oar all right,” agreed 
Toby. “Wonder what’s become of all the 
launches that were in sight half an hour ago. 

198 


LOST IN THE FOG 


They’ve all cleaned out for home, I guess. Well, 
they wouldn’t want to tow us much anyway. There 
comes the fog. We’ll be in it in a minute. I hate 
fog. It makes you feel so damp and soggy. 
How’s it coming, Arn?” 

“Oh, fine,” grunted the other, pushing heroically 
at his oar. “How far do you suppose we’ve 
gone?” 

Toby laughed. “About two hundred yards, I 
guess,” he answered. “We haven’t begun yet.” 

“Is that all? Look here, that breeze is pushing 
us a little. So why not wait until the breeze stops 
before rowing? Maybe we won’t have to row 
at all!” 

“That breeze,” answered Toby, “isn’t strong 
enough to move us a mile an hour, Arn. Keep 
her the way she heads, Phebe.” 

Then the fog rolled over them and the last 
glimpse of the land was lost to view. For a few 
minutes the sunlight crept through the bank of 
haze, tinging it amber. Then the amber turned 
to gray as the fog thickened. From here and 
there, at intervals, fog-horns sounded and, at 
Toby’s suggestion, Phebe got the Ay dee’s horn 
out and, turning the handle now and then, evoked 
a most excruciatingly horrible wail. 

“There isn’t much danger of being run into,” 
199 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


said Toby, “for the launches have all hiked for 
port, but the law says you’ve got to sound your 
horn. Say, Arn, did you ever get that compass you 
sent for?” 

“No, and we ought to have it, too, eh?” 

“Well, it might help, but I guess we won’t need 
it. Those folks in New York take their time, don’t 
they? You’d better have bought one here. That 
breeze is a goner, folks.” 

It was. The sails hung motionless. The deck 
and the oars were damp and slippery now and 
their clothing was beaded with moisture. Arnold 
was breathing heavily as he labored at his sweep. 
The trying feature of it was that, with nothing 
to measure progress by, they seemed not to be 
moving at all! The boys became silent at their 
task. Now and then Phebe, between lugubrious 
winds of the patent fog-horn, offered a comment, 
but she seldom got a reply. A quarter of an hour 
passed, during which time the fog grew thicker, 
heavier and more depressing, and then there was a 
sudden exclamation, of dismay from Arnold, his 
feet pattered on the wet planks and they saw him 
throw himself across the gunwale and clutch des- 
perately for his disappearing oar! 

Toby tossed his own oar down and, seizing the 
boat-hook, jumped to Arnold’s assistance. But 


200 


LOST IN THE FOG 


already the escaped oar had floated away into the 
surrounding grayness. Toby silently returned the 
boat-hook to its place. Then, catching sight of 
Arnold’s despairing countenance, he broke into a 
laugh. “Never mind, Arn,” he said comfortingly, 
“we’ve still got one left, and there’s the boat-hook* 
too. How did you happen to* lose it?” 

“It was wet and slippery and — and I guess I 
was tired,” replied Arnold contritely. “The first 
thing I knew it was sliding over the side. Gee* 
but I’m a chump 1” 

“Oh, shucks, that’s nothing. Cheer up !” 

“Couldn’t you scull over the stern, Toby?” 
asked his sister. “I believe we’d go just as fast.” 

“I’ll try it,” answered Toby. “Find a length 
of rope, Arnold, and I’ll make a lashing. I’ve 
got to rest a bit first, though.” He sank to the 
wet seat with a tired sigh. “Running a launch is 
too easy, sis. It makes you soft.” 

“There’s a puff of wind,” said Phebe hopefully. 
“Perhaps the breeze is coming up again.” 

“I wish it would,” said Arnold. “What is it 
you do when you want a breeze? Whistle, isn’t 
it?” 

“Sure,” laughed Toby. “Try it!” 

“I don’t know what to whistle, though.” 

“Oh, anything light and breezy,” was the face- 
201 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


tious retort. “You might whistle, ‘Where, oh 
where, is my little oar gone?’ Say, Arn, I’ve just 
thought!” 

“What?” 

“Why, how you happened to lose it. You were 
tired and thought that if you could get rid of it 
you wouldn’t have to row any more! Didn’t it 
look to you, sis, as if he sort of pushed it over- 
board?” 

But Arnold was too sore to joke about it yet. 
The breeze puffed half-heartedly at the sails now 
and then and swirled the gray fog-wraiths about 
them, but Toby had little faith in it and soon 
rigged a lashing for his oar across the stern and 
tried sculling. It was a difficult and awkward task, 
for the deck was slippery to even rubber soles, 
and there wasn’t room to work in. Every time 
Toby pushed the handle of the oar Phebe, at the 
tiller, had to duck her head. Finally Toby was 
forced to give up. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but that’s too much like 
work, and it isn’t doing any good, anyhow. You 
take this, Arn, and I’ll try the boat-hook.” 

“If you do that you’ll swing the boat off her 
course,” warned Phebe. “We’ll just have to let 
the tide and what breeze there is look after us, 
Toby. I guess we’ll get in, finally.” 


202 


LOST IN THE FOG 


“That’s about the size of it,” agreed Toby, sit- 
ting down again with a grimace at the dampness 
of the seat. “We’re at the mercy of the elements, 
folks.” 

“Well, I’m glad it isn’t a storm,” said Phebe 
philosophically. “A fog is horrid enough, but 
we’re not in any danger.” 

“We’re in danger of starving to death,” mut- 
tered Arnold dispiritedly. “I don’t see what I 
ever wanted a sailboat for, anyhow.” 

The others laughed. “Oh, you’ll be as much in 
love with her as ever tomorrow morning,” Phebe 
assured him. Then, after a moment’s silence, she 
asked wistfully: “What time is it, please?” 

“Ten minutes to six,” answered Arnold. 
“How’ll you have your steak, Toby? Rare or 
just medium?” 

“Medium, please. I’m glad it’s Sunday, folks. 
If it wasn’t we’d be hungrier than we are.” 

“That’s all well enough for you,” replied Ar- 
nold sadly. “You two had a fine big dinner at 
two o’clock, but we just have a skimpy little lunch 
at my house on Sundays, and dinner at seven. I’m 
— I’m starved!” 

“You might try to catch a fish,” said Phebe. 

“I don’t like them raw, thanks. What’s that 
row over there, Toby?” 


203 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Fog-horn over at Ponquogue, I guess. I can’t 
tell, though, for this boat’s turned around for all 
we know. That may be Robins Island in that 
direction.” 

“But the breeze is coming from the same direc- 
tion,” protested Phebe, “and I haven’t moved the 
tiller a bit.” 

“Yes, but the breeze feels different to me. It 
was dry before and now it’s damp. I wouldn’t 
risk a nickel on the points of the compass at this 
moment.” 

“Then — then how do we know we’re sailing — I 
mean drifting toward home?” demanded Arnold 
anxiously. 

“We don’t know it. Only thing we know is 
that the tide is running toward the head of the 
bay and that we’re going with it. We may fetch 
up anywhere between Johnstown and the Head. 
Or we may fetch up on the outer shore of the 
Head. We’ll get somewhere, though, for the tide 
isn’t full until nearly ten o’clock tonight. Don’t 
forget that horn, Phebe. Here, give me a whack 
at it.” 

“I’m getting wet to the skin,” grumbled Arnold 
when Toby’s effort on the fog-horn had died away. 
“After this I’m going to be prepared, I can tell 
you that. I’m going to have a compass, and half a 
204 


LOST IN THE FOG 

dozen extra oars, and three oilskins, and ” 

“How about a gasoline engine with a cunning 
little propeller stuck out behind?’’ asked Toby. 
“Huh! I wish I had one!” 

“If you could wish for just one thing, Arnold, 
what would it be?” asked Phebe. 

Arnold considered for a long moment. Then 
he answered decisively and with feeling. 

“A steak and a baked potato !” said Arnold. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE LIGHTED WINDOW 

I T was after eight o’clock, as dark as Egypt 
and a great deal damper on board the Ay dee. 
Phebe’s teeth insisted on chattering whenever 
she spoke, in spite of her efforts. Arnold had 
draped the one spare sail the boat afforded, a 
storm jib, about her, but it didn’t seem to keep the 
dampness out very well. Arnold and Toby were 
chilled through. The lanterns were lighted, al- 
though they couldn’t have seen a boat’s length 
away. Arnold had long since stopped talking 
about food, or about anything else, for that mat- 
ter. Conversation had died away more than an 
hour since, save for a hopeful prediction from 
Toby a minute or two ago to the effect that he 
thought he heard surf. The others, however, had 
failed to hear anything except the dismal tooting 
of the fog-horns, one somewhere within a few 
miles, as it seemed, and one far off in the distance. 
They were, in short, three very damp, chilly and 
depressed persons, and didn’t care who knew it. 
206 


THE LIGHTED WINDOW 

Arnold broke the silence that ensued after he 
had turned the handle of the horn for the fiftieth 
time. (He declared that it was just a waste of 
labor to bother with the old thing, but Toby in- 
sisted.) “If the tide is high at ten,” he said, “and 
we don’t hit land before that, what’ll happen 
then?” 

“We’re pretty likely to start back again,” said 
Toby listlessly. “If only the fog would lift ” 

“I wouldn’t mind a bit if only I wasn’t so cold,” 
said Phebe, with an attempt at cheerfulness. They 
had abandoned the tiller long ago, and all three 
were huddled on the floor of the cockpit as close 
together as they could get. “Wouldn’t it be beau- 
tiful if we could have a fire?” 

“I’ve got plenty of matches,” said Arnold. 
“We might cut down the mast and burn it,” he 
added with an effort at humor. “Only I dare say 
it would be too damp. That’s another thing I’m 
going to have on board after this.” 

“What?” asked Toby. 

“Well, either steam heat or open fireplaces. If 
we only had a radiator back of us now ” 

“Listen!” Toby sat up suddenly and put his 
head above the coaming. They listened as hard 
as they could. “Hear it?” Toby demanded in- 
tensely. “Waves on the shore!” 

207 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Right you are,” agreed Arnold joyfully. “But 
which way is it?” 

“Over there, I think.” Toby pointed in the 
darkness. “I’m not sure, though. Listen 
again.” 

It wasn’t a very loud sound that came to them, 
just a soft, lazy swi-i-ish such as the tiniest of 
waves might make against a pebbled beach. “It 
must be the head,” muttered Toby, scrambling to 
his feet. “Or else ” 

But he didn’t continue just then. Instead he 
sat down more quickly than he had got up, and 
sat down in Arnold’s lap, too, a proceeding which 
elicited a howl of surprise and pain from that 
youth. The Ay dee had reached land 1 

“Struck something!” cried Toby, finding his feet 
again and disappearing toward the bow. The oth- 
ers jumped up too and listened and stared all ways 
into the gloom of fog and darkness. 

“See anything?” called Arnold. 

“No, but there’s surf right ahead here. Bring 
the oar along and we’ll see how deep it is. I 
guess we’ve run smack up on a beach.” 

The knockabout jarred again, and Arnold 
clutched the boom as he groped about for the oar. 
Then the boat performed a number of little cour- 
tesies, the boom swung slowly to port and the 
208 


THE LIGHTED WINDOW 


Aydee settled down for the night with her port 
rail just out of water! 

For the next ten minutes they were extremely 
busy. The oar showed some three feet of water at 
the bow and they decided with an enthusiastic una- 
nimity that three feet of salt water would leave 
them no wetter than they already were. The an- 
chor cable was made fast at the bow and Toby, 
dropping breast high into the water, bore the 
anchor ashore. 

“It isn’t a beach,” he announced presently. 
“Not exactly a beach, anyhow. There are some 
rocks here and — Ouch! That was one of them!” 
He laughed and the others on the yacht joined 
him. No one had laughed before for a good three 
hours ! 

“Is it real, sure-enough dry land?” asked 
Arnold. 

“It’s real, all right, but it doesn’t feel awfully 
dry,” was the answer. “I’m coming back. The 
water’s as warm as anything!” 

“I’ll bet it’s a lot warmer than I am,” said Ar- 
nold. “Say, I’m going to hold my match-box in 
my mouth so it w6n’t get wet. Maybe we can 
have a fire and get dry. Where do you think we 
are, Toby?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know.” Toby’s voice was 
209 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


plainly puzzled as he waded back to the boat “I 
don’t recognize the place at all. If there was a 
sand beach I’d think it was the Head, but I don’t 
remember these rocks. Where are you? Oh, all 
right! You come on in, Arn, and we’ll lug Phebe 
across. There’s no use in her getting soaked. : ’ 

Two minutes later, having furled the sails, the 
three shipwrecked mariners stood huddled to- 
gether beyond the lapping waves on a tiny stretch 
of coarse sand and pebbles in a darkness that they 
could almost feel. For sound there was the swish 
and trickle of the surf, the lapping of the water 
against the Aydee , the regular, monotonous wail 
of the fog-horns, and, once, the far-off shriek of a 
locomotive. Unfortunately that locomotive was 
in one direction, according to Toby, and in two 
entirely different directions, according to Arnold 
arid Phebe, and therefore didn’t help much in de- 
termining their whereabouts. Two paces to the 
left was a low ledge that apparently ran well into 
the water at high tide and some three paces to the 
right were a number of huge rocks, weather- 
smoothed boulders, bedded in the steep beach. 
Doubtless it was possible to climb over them, but 
Toby’s experiment had not been successful. Be- 
hind them the sand and pebbles shelved abruptly 
to a bed of shingle, and beyond that beach-grass 
210 


THE LIGHTED WINDOW 


and a tangle of weeds and bushes climbed the side 
of a high bank. Although Toby thought and 
thought, he could not for the life of him recall 
any such place in the neighborhood of Greenhaven. 
Nor, when called on for aid, could Phebe. 

“I don’t know where we are,” acknowledged 
Toby at last. “Light one of your matches, Arn, 
and let’s see if we can tell.” 

“I hope they’re dry,” muttered Arnold. They 
heard him fumbling at the little silver box and then 
came an exclamation of disappointment. “Gee,” 
said Arnold. “I’ve only got three! I thought I 
had a lot of ’em!” 

“Hold on, then,” said Toby sharply. “Don’t 
waste any. Let’s see if we can find some twigs 
and driftwood to start a blaze. Got any paper?” 

Arnold hadn’t, but Toby himself finally came 
across a tiny piece crumpled up in the bottom of a 
pocket. It wasn’t exactly wet, but it certainly 
wasn’t dry, and he had doubts of its usefulness. 
Meanwhile they felt and fumbled about on the 
shingle and among the bushes for dry twigs and 
of wood, Phebe adding to the joy of the occa- 
sion by reminding them that there was probably 
poison ivy there. However, as no one was pois- 
oned, she was undoubtedly unnecessarily pessimis- 
tic. At the end of five minutes or so they had a col- 
21 1 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


lection of fairly dry sticks and chips and wave- 
worn bits of wood piled on the shelf of smooth, 
round stones, and very carefully Toby introduced 
his precious bit of paper at the base of the little 
pile and Arnold anxiously scraped a match on the 
box. Nothing happened, for the box was damp, 
and one of the three matches was put out of com- 
mission. 

“Give me one,” said Toby. When he had it he 
poked around among the stones until he found one 
that seemed dry on the under side and then lightly 
scraped the match against it. There was a tiny 
yellow flare in the darkness and, after another mo- 
ment, a breath-seizing, anxious moment, the scrap 
of paper burst into flame, the dry twigs caught and 
a little red glare lighted the immediate scene. 
They scurried for more fuel, aided in their search 
by the flickering light, and Toby fed the fire with 
care and science. There was one doubtful mo- 
ment when the flames died away to glowing em- 
bers, but Toby dropped to his hands and puffed 
his cheeks and blew mightily and the fire started 
afresh. Once well under way they were obliged to 
use less care in the selection of fuel, and larger 
pieces of driftwood, dampened by water or fog, 
soon dried out and took fire. And presently they 
were able to look about them. 


212 


THE LIGHTED WINDOW 


Some ten yards out lay the Aydee , side-on, 
barely visible in the enveloping fog. Right and 
left, boulders and low ledges showed, and shore- 
ward, the radius of orange light reached half- 
way up a sandy bluff. The fog made everything 
look spectral and unreal. Toby again shook his 
head. 

“You can search me,” he muttered helplessly. 

“Perhaps if we climbed that bluff,”* suggested 
Arnold, “we might find a road or something.” 

“Yes, we could try that, or we could keep along 
the shore. First of all, though, I’m for getting 
sort of dried out.” 

Phebe had already seated herself as near the 
fire as she dared, and, shielding her face with her 
hands, was sighing luxuriously. The boys fol- 
lowed her example, but although the flames gave 
out a pleasant heat and their damp garments 
steamed in it, the warmth didn’t seem to penetrate 
to their chilled bodies, and, as Arnold said, while 
you were toasting on one side you were shivering 
on the other. But by dint of revolving, like a roast 
on a spit, they did finally get some of the chill 
out of their bodies, and while they did it they dis- 
cussed ways and means. 

“Climbing that bluff in the dark doesn’t look 
good to me,” said Toby. “I guess it would be 
213 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

hard enough to do it in the daytime. The best 
thing we can do is hike along the shore. We’re 
bound to find a house or a road or something after 
a while.” 

“Well, which way shall we hike?” asked 
Arnold. 

Toby pointed to the left — he had his back to 
the bluff then — and replied: “That way, of 
course, if we want to get home. The other way 
would take us down the island toward Shinne- 
cock.” 

But Arnold had got completely turned around 
and couldn’t see it, at all, and it took Toby and 
Phebe many minutes to convince him. Even then 
he was not so much convinced as he was silenced 
by numbers. 

“Will the boat be all right, do you think?” he 
asked. 

“Yes, she can’t get away, and we’ll come around 
at high tide tomorrow with the Frolic and pull her 
off. I guess she’ll come easily enough if she 
doesn’t settle in the sand any more, and she won’t 
unless a sea gets up.” 

“What do you suppose our folks are thinking?” 
asked Phebe in a troubled voice. 

“That’s so!” cried Arnold. “Gee, I’ll bet 
father is fit to be tied by now!” 

214 


THE LIGHTED WINDOW 


“I don’t believe they’ll be very much worried,” 
said Toby. “Dad will figure it out we got lost in 
the fog and that we’ve had to land wherever we 
could. What time is it, now, I wonder?” 

“Nearly half-past nine,” answered Arnold hold- 
ing the dial of his watch to the light of the dying 
fire. “We’d better make a start, eh?” 

“I think so. We can probably get back by 
midnight. All ready, sis?” 

They turned their backs on the fire and began 
a difficult scramble over or between the piled-up 
boulders. It was hard going, for, once away from 
the radiance, the darkness seemed blacker than 
ever and they had to feel their way with hands 
and feet. Presently, though, they gained another 
stretch of coarse sand and this proved of some 
extent. They kept just above the water’s edge, or 
tried to, for they had only the sense of hearing 
to depend on, and the surf was too gentle to make 
much sound. Once Toby found to his surprise 
that he was ankle deep in the water and, when he 
turned to get back to the beach, plunged down to 
his knees in a hole. His involuntary cry of dis- 
may brought Arnold hurrying blindly to his assist- 
ance, with the result that both got nicely soaked 
again before they found their way back to the 
land. 


215 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


They went slowly and cautiously after that, 
Toby leading with hands outstretched in front of 
him, Arnold following with a hand on his shoulder 
and Phebe bringing up the rear holding to Ar- 
nold’s coat-tail! They climbed a smooth ledge, 
crossed some uncomfortably quaky sand, scram- 
bled up and down another ledge, and then, having 
unconsciously borne inland, discovered themselves 
in a thicket of waist-high bushes. Toby stopped 
disgustedly. 

“Now what?” he asked. 

“Let’s keep on,” said Arnold. “If we can get 
through the bushes we may find a road. Anyhow, 
we won’t walk into the bay again I” 

“All right — here we go then !” 

So they rustled and tripped and crashed their 
way through the vegetation, their hands suffering 
in the conflict, and finally won through and found 
their steps leading them up a steep ascent car- 
peted with coarse grass and blackberry brambles. 
The brambles caught at their feet and scratched 
their ankles, but they kept on until Phebe declared 
breathlessly that she just had to stop and rest a 
minute. So they all sat down on the ground — and, 
incidentally, the blackberry vines — and got their 
breath back. 

“I’d give a hundred dollars if I had it,” said 
216 


THE LIGHTED WINDOW 


Toby, “to know where the dickens we are. This 
is a pretty steep hill, and the only one I can think, 
of is the Head, and we know it can’t be the Head 
because the shore isn’t right.” 

“Things look different at night,” said Phebe 
wisely. “Maybe it is the Head, after all, 
Toby.” 

“I don’t believe it. If it is, though, we’ll soon 
find out, because there’s a road runs along this 
side. But it can’t be, sis. Where are there any 
rocks, like those back there, on the outer shore of 
the Head? It’s all clean beach except at the 
point.” 

“I know,” acknowledged Phebe. “It is awfully 
puzzling, isn’t it? There are some rocks like those 
on the other side, though, Toby.” 

“Of course there are, but we couldn’t be on the 
other side. At least ” He paused. 

“We might possibly have drifted around the 
Head and into Nobbs’ Bay,” suggested Phebe. 

“That’s likely!” derided Toby. “Well, come 
on and let’s find out. We must be somewhere 1” 

They went on again, still climbing steadily up- 
wards. After a few minutes there was a cry from 
Toby and the procession came to a sudden stop. 
“What is it?” demanded Arnold anxiously. 

“Tree! I ran smash into it and nearly broke 
217 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


my nose ! Here’s another one. Look out for it. 
This way. Gee, that hurt!” 

“Listen !” said Phebe. Obediently they stopped 
and were silent. From somewhere in the dis- 
tance came the faint sound of a voice singing. 
They couldn’t make out the words, nor even the 
tune; that the man was singing was evidenced 
merely by the rise and fall of the far-away voice. 
But it was a voice, and it cheered them immensely, 
and they went on up the hill through the darkness 
and the fog, picking their way between the trees, 
with new courage. And quite suddenly their feet 
crunched on the gravel of a roadway! 

“Hooray!” yelled Arnold. “Now we know 
where we are !” 

“Fine !” laughed Toby. “Where are we?” 

“Well, I mean we know that — that we’re — 
somewhere !” 

“That’s about all we do know! Which way 
shall we go?” 

“Right,” said Arnold. 

“Left,” said Phebe. 

“Much obliged ! Suppose, though, we cross this 
road and keep on. That fellow who was sing- 
ing ” 

“Hold on!” interrupted Arnold. “Isn’t that a 
sort of a light over there to the left?” 

218 


THE LIGHTED WINDOW 


“It is!” exclaimed Phebe joyfully. “Isn’t it?” 
she added less certainly. “I don’t see it now.” 

“Yes, it is,” agreed Toby, and sighed with vast 
relief. “Come on !” 

The light proved surprisingly near at hand, for 
a dozen strides brought them to it. It shone from 
a square window and illumined a gravel drive 
lined with trees and shrubs, a drive that evidently 
connected with the road they had just left. The 
window was too high up to be seen through and 
the light that came from it was faint, but it was 
at once apparent that the building was not a resi- 
dence. Toby stared perplexedly at the gray 
stucco wall visible through the fog. 

“I never saw this place before,” he muttered. 
“It must be !” 

But Arnold interrupted him with a chuckle. “I 
have !” he said. “It’s our garage !” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


MR. TUCKER CONSENTS 
HEIR troubles were soon over, and, 



seated in front of a fine, big fire in 


the Deerings’ living room, they re- 
counted their adventures while they sipped 
from steaming cups of beef tea and vora- 
ciously devoured bread and butter sandwiches. 
Later the car was brought around and Toby and 
Phebe, warm and sleepy, were whisked away to 
the little house in Harbor Street, to the accom- 
paniment of incessant shrill warnings, which, in 
their somnolent state, became confused with fog- 
horns. After that came slumber, deep and undis- 
turbed. 

The fog vanished in the morning, and shortly 
before noon the two boys stretched a line from 
the Frolic to the Ay dee and pulled the latter easily 
enough into deep water. Then Toby produced a 
chart, and they tried to trace their wanderings of 
the evening before. The knockabout had, it ap- 
peared, covered some three and a half miles with 
the tide and what little breeze had aided, and, 


220 


MR. TUCKER CONSENTS 


instead of grounding on the outer shore of the 
Head, had drifted around the point, and then, by 
some freak of the currents, turned into Nobbs’ 
Bay and settled her nose in the sand a half-mile 
beyond the Deerings’ landing. She must have 
passed within a hundred feet of the Trainors’ 
houseboat, they concluded, on the way. Arnold 
somewhat triumphantly pointed out that he had, 
after all, been right as to direction, and that if 
they had set off along the shore as he had advised 
they’d have reached home much sooner and with- 
out struggling through thickets and briers. All 
of which Toby was forced to acknowledge. 

“I thought we were along here somewhere,” 
he defended, putting a finger on the outer shore*. 
“And if we’d gone to the right we’d have traveled 
toward Shinnecock. How that boat ever got 
around the point and turned in here I can’t see 1” 

“Huh!” returned Arnold in superior tones. 
“That boat knows enough to go home, Toby. I’ve 
got it trained !” 

Arnold spent most of that afternoon stocking 
the yacht with things which, he predicted, would 
make shipwreck a positive pleasure ! He replaced 
the lost oar, tucked two suits of oilskins into a 
cubby, invested in a square of canvas which, if 
necessity required, could be pulled across the cock* 
221 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


pit, and would, doubtless have installed that heat- 
ing system had it been in any way possible. The 
compass, a very elaborate one in a mahogany box, 
arrived that day from New York, and was put in 
place. And then Arnold set out to find a tender. 

“If we’d had a tender,” he explained, “we could 
have dropped anchor most anywhere and rowed 
ourselves ashore. Besides, every yacht ought to 
have a tender.” 

They looked at three or four the next morning, 
but none was in good enough condition to please 
Arnold. “I want a tender,” he said, “but I don’t 
want it so tender it’ll fall to pieces !” In the end 
Mr. Tucker was commissioned to build one, a tiny 
cedar affair that would barely hold four persons 
without sinking. When it was finished, which was 
not until the middle of August, since Mr. Tucker 
was busy on another order, Arnold viewed it de- 
lightedly. “That’s fine,” he declared. “In the 
winter we can bring it into the house and put it on 
the mantel for an ornament!” 

There were no more shipwrecks, now that the 
Ay dee was prepared for them, and I think that her 
skipper was slightly disappointed. But the knock- 
about provided a lot of fun and by the time the 
summer was nearing its end Arnold had become 
quite a proficient navigator and had acquired a 
222 


MR. TUCKER CONSENTS 


coat of tan that was the envy of his friends at the 
Head. Toby said it was more than a coat, it was 
a regular ulster! The Ay dee sailed in two races 
in August, one a handicap affair in which her time 
allowance of a minute and forty seconds enabled 
her to almost but not quite win, and the other a 
contest for twenty-one-footers in which she was 
badly outdistanced. Perhaps the fact that Toby 
sailed the Ay dee in the first race and that Arnold 
and Frank Lamson manned her in the second may 
have had something to do with the results. Once 
imbued with the racing mania, Arnold liked noth- 
ing better than putting out into the bay and try- 
ing conclusions with any sailing craft that hove in 
sight. He didn’t much care how big the opponent 
might be or how much sail she carried. He was 
always ready and eager for a brush. Usually he 
was outsailed or outmaneuvered, but now and then 
he came home victor and was extremely proud 
until some craft unkindly beat him the next day. 

But life wasn’t all racing, for the Aydee was 
frequently put to more humdrum uses, as when, 
one fine day toward the last of the month, Arnold, 
Toby, Frank and Phebe embarked with many bas- 
kets and bundles and sailed away to a pleasant 
spot far down on the south shore of the bay and 
picnicked. Confidentially, both Toby and Frank 
223 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


favored using the Frolic for the expedition, but 
Arnold nowadays considered motorboating poor 
sport and wouldn’t listen to any such proposal. 
Fortunately, they had a good breeze all day and 
the Aydee performed beautifully. The boys took 
bathing suits along and as soon as the anchor was 
dropped they rowed ashore, converted a clump of 
bushes into a bath-house, and got ready for the 
water. Then they returned to the yacht and dived 
off the deck to their hearts’ content, while Phebe, 
more practical, placed the baskets in the tender 
and went ashore to “set the table.” They lunched 
on a grassy knoll between the bay and a winding 
inlet. Every one had provided a share of the 
provender and, while there was some duplication, 
the result included a marvelous variety of viands. 
Frank pretended to think picnics a great bore, but 
It was observed by the others that he did his full 
share of eating. On the whole, Frank was fairly 
good company that day, and Toby and Phebe liked 
him better than they ever had before. Possibly 
Arnold, whose guest he was, had cautioned him to 
make himself agreeable. 

They tried bathing in the inlet after their repast, 
but voted the water too warm, and so went for a 
long walk up the shore, in the course of which 
Arnold managed to cut his foot rather deeply on a 
224 


MR. TUCKER CONSENTS 


shell. Phebe applied first-aid by sacrificing a hand- 
kerchief and they returned to the scene of the 
luncheon, packed up and embarked once more. 
They sailed home with the sun slanting at them 
across the quiet water and reached harbor just as 
twilight was stealing down through the little vil- 
lage. They all voted the excursion a huge success 
and promised themselves another, but it didn’t 
take place that summer for the season was fast 
nearing its close and there were so many, many 
other things to be done. 

About that time Toby balanced his books, so 
to speak, and found himself in jpossession of a 
sum of money slightly in excess of two hundred 
and seventy-five dollars, or, to be more exact, in 
possession of a bank book crediting him with that 
amount. He could reckon on another three weeks 
or so of ferrying, and that, he believed ought to 
add some forty-five dollars more to his fund, leav- 
ing him with a final grand total of three hundred 
and twenty dollars. He and Arnold had figured 
that three hundred and fifty would see him through 
the first year at Yardley Hall School, but Toby 
realized that an expenditure of something like 
forty dollars would be necessary for clothes. 
What he had was all well enough for Greenhaven, 
but not quite good enough for Yardley. A new 
225 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


suit of clothes would cost him twenty-five dollars, 
he supposed, leaving fifteen for other supplies. 
Consequently, he would be about seventy dollars 
shy of the required sum by the middle of Septem- 
ber, and where to get that seventy dollars worried 
Toby considerably. 

Of course it wasn’t absolutely settled that he 
was to go to Yardley, even if he found the neces- 
sary amount of money, but he was pretty sure that 
his father meant to consent finally, and as for his 
mother, why she had already promised her sup- 
port, although that was still a secret between her 
and the boy. It was time, Toby told himself, to 
have the question settled, and so that evening he 
broached the matter again to his father, with the 
result that the next evening Arnold was on hand 
with the school catalogue and a large fund of 
enthusiasm, both of which doubtless influenced 
Mr. Tucker in his ultimate decision. The cata- 
logue was gone through very thoroughly, Arnold 
explaining. The pictures were viewed, the study 
courses discussed, and the matter of expense 
gravely considered. Toby let his father and 
Arnold do the talking, maintaining for the most 
part a discreet and anxious silence. 

“Well, I don’t know,” said Mr. Tucker at last. 
“I suppose if Toby wants to try it for a year 
226 


MR. TUCKER CONSENTS 


there’s no harm done except the spending of a 
considerable amount of money. You say he’s got 
to go there three years anyway, and maybe four, 
to finish up, eh?” 

“Probably four, sir,” answered Arnold. “He 
might get into the fourth class, but I guess it would 
be the third. Of course, some fellows do the four 
years in three, and maybe Toby could.” 

“H’m. Well, Toby, one year will use all your 
money up. What’ll you do next year?” 

“I’ll make more before that,” replied Toby with 
a fine assurance. “There’s the ferry, dad, you 
know. I ought to do better with that next summer, 
don’t you think?” 

“Likely you ought. But where do you expect 
to get the seventy dollars you need for this year, 
son? If you’re counting on me — !” Mr. Tucker 
shook his head. “I might be able to help you a 
little: say twenty-five or thirty; but seventy’s too 
much for me.” 

“If you’ll let me have twenty-five I’ll get hold 
of the rest somewhere, sir. You see I don’t have 
to pay it all now. I can pay it in three lots if I 
like, fifty dollars now, fifty dollars in January and 
twenty-five in April. Arnold doesn’t seem to think 
there’d be much chance of earning a little at school, 
but you — you read about fellows doing it.” 

227 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“I guess you read a lot in stories that ain’t just 
so,” replied his father, dryly. “Well, all right, 
son. It’s your money. If you want to spend it 
this way I’m willing. I hope you’ll get enough 
learning to come out even, though. If I was you 
I’d make up my mind to get my money’s worth, 
I think. Money ain’t so easy come by these days !” 

“Hooray!” shouted Arnold. “That’s fine, Mr. 
Tucker! Toby, you sit down there this minute 
and write your application!” 

“What application?” asked Toby. 

“Why, you’ve got to apply for admission, of 
course! And the sooner you do it the better 
chance you’ll have. For all we know the enroll- 
ment may be already filled for this fall.” 

“Oh I” said Toby blankly. “I didn’t know that. 
I thought all I had to do was just — just go I Sup- 
pose they’ve got all they want! Wouldn’t that 
be the dickens? Here, where’s the pen and ink, 
sis? Why didn’t you tell me about this application 
business, Arn? I’d have done it two months 
ago!” 

“Goodness me,” sighed Mrs. Tucker, “I do 
hope you ain’t too late, Toby! That would be an 
awful disappointment, now, wouldn’t it? You 
don’t think he is, do you, Arnold?” 

“No, ma’am, I don’t think so. Lots of fellows 
228 


MR. TUCKER CONSENTS 


have joined school just before it has opened. But 
I guess it’ll be safer to write now.” 

‘‘What’ll I say?” demanded Toby. “Who do I 
write to? Hadn’t dad ought to do it instead of 
me?” 

“Just as you like, Toby. I guess it doesn’t mat- 
ter who writes it. You’ll have to give your par- 
ents’ names and the names of two other residents 
of your town. It’s a good idea to have one of 
them your minister. They like that,” added 
Arnold, wisely. 

That application was posted inside of an hour, 
Toby dropping it into the box at the postoffice 
after saying good-night to Arnold at the landing, 
and for the next week he was on tenter-hooks of 
anxiety. But the answer came in due time, and 
Toby slit the envelope with trembling fingers. 

The school secretary acknowledged the receipt 
of Mr. Tobias Tucker’s letter, enclosed a form 
for him to fill out and sign and instructed him to 
mail form and remittance for fifty-five dollars be- 
fore the beginning of the Fall Term. Toby 
clapped his cap on his head and tore out of the 
house in search of Arnold. 


CHAPTER XIX 


TOBY ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE 

O F course Arnold was quite as pleased as 
Toby, and they spent the rest of that 
forenoon in laying glorious plans for 
the school year and in discussing the manners 
and customs of Yardley Hall. Arnold proudly 
reiterated that it was the best school in the 
country, and Toby gravely and unhesitatingly 
agreed. He already felt a certain proprie- 
torship in that institution and was every bit 
as ready as his chum to fight in defense of its 
honor and fame ! Fortunately for them, the ferry 
business was slack today, otherwise they would 
never have been able to talk all they wanted to on 
such an engrossing subject. 

Passengers were “queer birds, anyway,” to 
quote Arnold. One day they would appear in 
numbers, and the next day, as like as not, only 
two or three would turn up. But, passengers or 
no passengers, the trip across to Johnstown was a 
pleasant diversion, saving when the weather was 
bad, and both boys enjoyed it. And so did Phebe 
230 


TOBY ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE 


as often as she went with them, which was likely 
to be at least once a day. They never failed to 
enjoy the leisurely journey back and forth, for 
there was always plenty to talk about and always 
plenty to see. Launches and sailboats dotted the 
bay in fair weather, and now and then a rusty-sided 
oilboat or collier was passed, or a fussy, whistling 
tug rolled by with a tandem of scows in tow. Sev- 
eral times Frank Lamson joined them, and, since 
he invariably insisted on paying his way, could not 
very well be refused a seat in the launch. Frank, 
however, was less objectionable to Toby by now, 
whether he really strove to behave himself or be- 
cause Toby was growing used to him. In any 
case, Frank could be very good company when he 
chose, just as he could be most intolerably offen- 
sive when in the mood. 

He was in the mood one fine, crisp afternoon 
when, having loitered down to the landing, hands 
in pockets and a somewhat discontented look on 
his face, he decided at the last instant to make 
the trip. Toby gravely accepted the passage 
money and silently wished Frank anywhere but in 
the launch. On the way across Arnold railed 
Frank on a defeat suffered a few days before by 
the Spanish Head baseball team, which did not in 
the least improve the latter’s disposition. How- 
231 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


ever, the Johnstown landing was made without un- 
pleasantness and the lone passenger, a little dark- 
visaged peddler who in some miraculous manner 
carried two huge, bursting valises, was set ashore. 
No one appeared for the return trip and the launch 
presently turned her nose homeward with Toby 
at the engine and Arnold and Frank in the stern, 
the former steering. It was Arnold who intro- 
duced the subject of bathing with a careless remark 
to the effect that the water looked dandy and he 
wished he had his bathing-suit along. 

“You don’t need a bathing-suit out here,” said 
Toby, testing the commutator with the point of a 
screw-driver and mentally deciding to put a new 
spring on before the next trip. “Go ahead in if 
you like. I’ll slow down and tow you.” 

“You don’t need to slow down,” answered 
Arnold. “I can swim as fast as you’re going 
now.” Which, as the launch was making a fair 
six miles, was a slight exaggeration. 

“What’s the fastest any one ever swam a mile, 
anyway?” inquired Toby. 

“About twenty-four minutes, I think,” answered 
Arnold. 

“Twenty-three and about sixteen seconds,” cor- 
rected Frank in a superior tone. “That’s profes- 
sional, I guess. Some Australian chap. It takes 
232 


TOBY ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE 


those fellows to swim. We don’t know anything 
about it in this country.” 

“Don’t we? What’s the matter with that 
Honolulu chap, Duke Somebody? He’s a 
corker.” 

“He’s a Hawaiian. I said in this country.” 

“Well, he’s an American, just the same,” in- 
sisted Arnold. “And there was a chap who swam 
from the Battery in New York to Sandy Hook 
just the other day in just over seven hours. That’s 
about twenty miles. So he made almost three 
miles an hour. Lots of the fancy records you hear 
about are made in tanks. Swimming in open 
water, with waves and tides and — and ” 

“Sharks,” offered Toby. 

“And wind is another thing entirely.” 

“I know that,” granted Frank. “I’ve swum 
two hundred and twenty yards in a tank in three 
minutes myself. It isn’t hard.” 

“Three minutes!” exclaimed Arnold. “Why, 
you couldn’t have! That would mean twenty- 
four minutes for a mile, and ” 

“No, it wouldn’t,” denied Frank. “You can do 
a short distance without getting tired. It’s like 
sprinting. According to your talk, any one who 
could do the two-twenty in twenty-two and three- 
fifths could run the mile in about three minutes 1 
233 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


And the best time for the mile is four minutes and 
something.” 

“Well, just the same,” demurred Arnold, 
“three minutes is mighty fast time for two hun- 
dred and twenty yards, even in still water. I 
guess your watch must have been wrong.” 

“It wasn’t my watch and it wasn’t wrong,” an- 
swered Frank, huffily. “Besides, lots of fellows 
have done two-twenty in a good deal less than 
three minutes.” 

“All right. I don’t say they haven’t. All I 
know is that I never saw you swim in any such 
style, Frank. You’ll have to show us, won’t he, 
Toby?” 

“Well, seeing’s believing,” said Toby. “How 
big are these tanks you fellows talk about? Seems 
to me if they’re an eighth of a mile long they 
must look like rivers. Where do you find them?” 

“They aren’t an eighth of a mile long,” grunted 
Frank. “You swim the length of the tank enough 
times to make the distance. You could do it 
quicker if you didn’t have to turn all the time. If 
you don’t believe I can do it in three minutes I’ll 
show you when we get back to school.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t care so much about being able 
to make time in a tank,” said Toby, judicially. 
“What a fellow wants to do is to be able to swim 


234 


TOBY ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE 


like the dickens in real water, I guess. And swim- 
ming fast isn’t half so necessary as being able to 
swim far. If you fell off a steamer away out 
to sea ” 

“If you were silly enough to fall off a steamer 
you’d deserve to drown,” growled Frank. 

“And I guess I should,” laughed Toby, “unless 
I had a life-belt on. Anyway, you might find your- 
self in the water without exactly falling off the 
boat. You might be shipwrecked or blown up by 
a torpedo or the ship might get on fire. In a case 
like that you want to be able to keep afloat a good, 
long while. Being a fast swimmer wouldn’t count 
much. How far have you ever swum, Arn?” 

“Me? Oh, not far. Maybe a half-mile. And 
I guess I rested plenty of times doing it. I’m a 
punk swimmer.” 

“You can dive finely, though,” said Toby. 

“Not so well as you can. Say, let’s go in this 
afternoon over at the beach.” 

“What’s the matter with going in now?” asked 
Frank. “You fellows afraid of deep water?” 

“I’m not,” answered Toby. “I can drown just 
as easily in six feet as sixty. If you like we’ll 
drop anchor off the end of the island and have a 
swim. I wouldn’t object a bit. How about you> 
Arn?” 


235 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“I don’t know. Isn’t the water awfully cold 
out here?” 

“Not so very. About sixty, I guess. That isn’t 
bad. I suppose these tanks you tell about are nice 
and warm, eh?” 

“Too warm,” said Arnold. “I’ll go in if you 
fellows will. Maybe Frank will give us an exhi- 
bition.” 

“I’ll race either of you any distance you like,” 
replied Frank, nettled. “And I’ll give you a 
start.” 

“You give Toby a start,” laughed Arnold, 
“and you’ll never catch him.” 

“Bet you I can give you a quarter of the way 
to the lighthouse landing and beat you to it,” said 
Frank to Toby. 

Toby, who had already disengaged the clutch, 
looked musingly toward the island which lay 
nearly a quarter-mile away to starboard. “Maybe 
you can,” he replied finally, “and then again maybe 
you can’t. I don’t believe I ever swam an eighth 
of a mile in three minutes, but I guess I can reach 
the landing ahead of you, Frank. And I don’t 
need any start, either.” 

Frank was pulling off his clothes and folding 
them neatly on the seat. “You fellows who live 
along the water always think you can swim and 
236 


TOBY ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE 


sail boats and all that,” he sneered, “but I notice 
that the city fellows can generally beat you at it 
when they come along.” 

“Oh, sometimes,” agreed Toby. “Throw that 
anchor over, Arn, will you?” Toby shut off the 
engine and began to disrobe. “Wish we had a 
couple of towels aboard. This breeze is going 
to be sort of cold when we get back.” 

“I’m not in this race,” said Arnold, as he kicked 
off his shoes. “You two fellows would leave me 
away behind. I’ll meet you at the landing.” 

“How shall we start?” asked Frank. “Dive 
from the rail or ” 

“Yes, I guess so. Arn can give us the word 
if he isn’t going to race himself. All ready?” 

“All ready,” answered Frank. 

The two boys stood on the seat, side by side, 
and poised themselves for the plunge. Arnold, 
only half undressed, gave the signal and over they 
went. 

Toby reappeared a good two yards ahead of 
Frank and then began a battle royal. Frank was 
a far prettier swimmer, as Arnold, watching from 
the launch, readily saw, but there was something 
extremely businesslike in the way in which Toby 
dug his head in and shot his arms forward in swift, 
powerful strokes. While both boys used the 
237 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


crawl, Frank’s performance was far more fin- 
ished, and his strokes longer and slower. He 
breathed after every stroke, while Toby used the 
more obsolete method of holding his breath and 
keeping his head down until endurance was ex- 
hausted and then throwing his head up for an- 
other long inhalation. For a time the contestants 
held the same relative positions as at the start 
when Toby’s shallower dive had gained him the 
advantage of a full length, but as the half-way 
distance was reached, Arnold, discarding the last 
of his attire without taking his eyes from the race, 
saw. that Frank had practically pulled himself 
even. From that time on the boys were too far 
away for him to judge their progress, but he 
waited in the launch until, after many minutes, 
they reached the end of the lighthouse landing. 
To him it seemed that Toby flung an arm over 
the edge of the float at least a second before 
Frank, but he was too far away to be certain. 
He' saw the.contestants clamber out and fling them- 
selves down in the sunlight and then he, too, 
sprang over the side* into the green depths. 

Toby had predicted that the temperature of the 
water would be about sixty, but Arnold, coming 
to the* surface with a gasp, was certain that fifty 
was far nearer the fact. The water was most de- 
238 


TOBY ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE 

cidedly cold, and he swam hard for a few min- 
utes to get warm. Then, looking back at the 
launch to find that he had made far less progress 
than he had supposed, he turned over on his 
back and went leisurely on toward the distant 
landing. 

On the float meanwhile Toby and Frank were 
pantingly arguing over the result of their contest. 
Toby declared warmly that he had finished a full 
length ahead of his opponent, while Frank with 
equal warmth proclaimed the race a tie. “You 
may have got hold of the float before I did,” he 
said, “but I was. right there. You finished 
your stroke ahead of me, that’s all. I couldn’t 
grab the float until my stroke was finished, 
could I?” 

“When I touched the float you were a length 
behind me,” replied the other positively. “I had 
my arm over the edge there before you got where 
you could touch it.” 

“You did not! You flung your hand out at the 
finish and I didn’t. It was a dead-heat, that’s 
what it was, and if the water hadn’t been so cold 
I’d have beaten you easily.” 

“The water wasn’t any colder where you were 
than it was where I was, was it?” asked Toby in- 
dignantly. 


239 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“I don’t say it was, but you’re more used to sea 
bathing than I am. In the tanks ” 

“Oh, bother your tanks !” said Toby in disgust. 
“You said you could beat me to this landing, and 
you didn’t, and that’s all there is to it.” 

“You said the water would be sixty, and it isn’t 
more than forty-six or -eight, I’ll bet! If I’d 
known it was so cold ” 

“Well, great Scott, I can’t fix the water for you, 
can I ? It was just as fair for you as it was for 
me, and there’s no use in making a fuss about 
it.” 

“I’m not making any fuss; it’s you. I say it 
was a tie ” 

“And I say it wasn’t. I won by more than a 
yard.” 

“Your saying so- doesn’t make it so,” sneered 
Frank. “I wish there had been some one here to 
prove it.” 

“Sure! So do I. But there wasn’t.” 

“If you’ll come in nearer shore I’ll race you 
again and show you,” said Frank. “Cold water 
always slows me up.” 

“You ought to do your swimming in a bath- 
tub,” replied Toby ungraciously. “What’s the 
good of knowing how to swim if you have to have 
the water fixed just right for you beforehand?” 

240 


TOBY ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE 


“That’s all right, Mr. Smart Aleck, but any 
one will tell you* that forty-four ” 

“You said forty-six a minute ago!” 

“Or forty-six, is too cold for fast swimming. 
You ask any one.” 

“How about the fellow that Arn told about who 
swam to Sandy Hook? I suppose some one went 
ahead of him in a boat and dragged a hot water 
bag, eh? Like fun! Look here, Frank, I’ll race 
you back to the launch and settle it. What do you 
say to that?” 

“I say no. I’m tuckered out, and the water’s 
too cold ” 

A cry of appeal interrupted him. Toby scram- 
bled to his feet and gazed toward the launch. 

“What is it?” asked Frank. 

“Some one yelled. I thought it might be 
Arn.” 

Toby gazed frowningly across the sunlit water, 
his eyes for the moment defeated by the dancing 
rays. Frank climbed to his feet and joined him 
at the edge of the float. 

“I don’t see him on the launch,” he muttered 
uneasily. “And I don’t see ” 

“I do! There he is!” Toby shot a swift arm 
outward, pointing, just as a second cry came across 
the water. “He’s in trouble! Come on now! 

241 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


Here’s you chance to show what you can do ! If 
you don’t like to take my wash, swim!” 

The last words were spoken in mid-air, for 
Toby’s gleaming body was plunging outward and 
downward in a long shallow dive. The fraction 
of a second later, Frank, too, clove the green 
water. 


CHAPTER XX 


A CLOSE CALL 

ALK about your ice-water,” said Ar- 
nold to himself, as he paddled slowly 
along on his back. “This has it beat 
a mile. I guess I stood around on the launch too 
long and got chilled.” 

He rolled over and threw an anxious look at the 
far-distant island, and then, after a brief moment 
of indecision, turned back toward the launch. 

“It’s too cold for me” he murmured. “I’m 
going to beat it!” 

For a few dozen strokes he managed to fight 
off the numbness that had seized on his limbs. 
His teeth chattered unless he held them tightly 
shut and a fear began to clutch at his rapidly beat- 
ing heart. He had never felt just like this in the 
water, never felt so numb and weak. He recalled 
stories he had heard of folks who had been seized 
with cramp and had drowned before help could 
reach them, and fear became panic. He forgot all 
skill and science and thrashed arms and legs 
wildly in the endeavor to reach the launch, a good 
243 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


hundred yards away. Of course he got his head 
under* water and swallowed more than was pleas- 
ant, and of course he made little progress. A 
sudden swift, sharp pain in one thigh brought a 
cry from him. It seemed to pull the muscles taut, 
and, in obedience, his left leg doubled up help- 
lessly. 

Strangely enough, the sudden knowledge that 
what he had feared had actually come to pass 
calmed him. Instead of the unreasoning panic, 
a grim determination to fight took possession of 
him. The pain was intolerable if he so much as 
moved that up-bent leg, but fortunately one could 
swim without legs if one had to. “Keep your 
head! Swim slow!” said Arnold to himself. 
“You’re all right if you don’t get rattled! I 
guess it’s getting rattled that makes folks drown. 
Maybe if you turn over on your back you can do 
better.” But the attempt to turn produced such 
a horrible pain in thigh and leg that he gave it 
up and, faint with agony, was content for the mo- 
ment to keep himself barely afloat. When the 
faintness had passed he remembered Toby and 
Frank and, calling on his tired lungs for all the 
breath that was in them, sent that first hail. 

“He-e-elp!” he shouted. 

If any one answered him he didn’t hear. Only 
244 


A CLOSE CALL 


the swish-swash of the dancing waves and the slap 
of his wearied arms reached him. He sent an ag- 
onized glance ahead. The launch was gone ! No, 
there it was, but he was swimming off his course. 
Carefully, trailing that useless, pain-racked leg 
behind him, he changed his direction. His goal 
looked leagues away and discouragement fell on 
him. He would never make it, he groaned. De- 
spair drove out determination. He wondered 
what it was like to drown. Perhaps it wasn’t so 
dreadful. He prayed incoherently, unconsciously 
slackening his efforts. The water closed over his 
head and there was a queer rushing sound in his 
ears. The next moment, with wide-open eyes 
looking into a yellow-green void, he was strug- 
gling frantically, up and’ up 

The sunlight burst on him again. Choking, 
gasping, he drew a long breath of air into his 
bursting lungs and sent a second wild appeal to the 
cloudless blue sky above. Fighting against fear, 
he swam doggedly, urging his tired arms forward 
and back, using as best he could his right leg, even 
though every movement of it brought a gasp of 
pain. He had the horrid, haunting impression that 
clutching arms were dragging at him from the 
green depths below him. He tried to tell himself 
that it was only imagination, but he was beyond 
245 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


conviction. The pain grew. It reached to his left 
foot now, to the uttermost tips of his toes, drag- 
ging and pulling, pinching and twisting excruciat- 
ingly. He had lost all sense of direction. His 
sole effort was to keep afloat, and that was by now 
half unconscious. Time and again he found him- 
self going under and, opening closed eyes, fought 
in terror to the surface. At such times he cried 
out, or thought he did, for the sounds he made 
were scarcely to be heard above the lap of the 
waves. He no longer realized either where he 
was or what he was doing. He struggled instinc- 
tively. A dozen yards distant the launch swayed 
lazily and tugged at her anchor rope, but he didn’t 
see it. Or, if he saw it, it meant nothing to him. 
To keep his head above water was all. 

And when his futile struggles were interrupted 
and fingers closed tightly about his wrist he was 
too far gone to realize it. A few minutes before 
Toby might have found him, in his fright, a dif- 
ficult bargain, but now, when the rescuer had 
drawn one arm over his shoulder, Arnold dragged 
supinely behind, an easy burden. Allowing him- 
self the luxury of a dozen long-drawn breaths, 
Toby swam slowly toward the launch, using right 
arm and legs, his left hand firmly grasping Ar- 
nold’s wrist. He had so far outdistanced Frank 
246 


A CLOSE CALL 


that the latter was still a good dozen yards away, 
and it wasn’t until Toby and his unconscious bur- 
den were under the shadow of the Urnove that 
Frank reached them. 

“Is he — all right?” he gasped. 

“Guess so. About half drowned, though. 
Climb in and give me a hand with him.” 

A minute later Arnold was stretched, face 
downward, on the seat of the launch and Toby 
was using all the knowledge- he possessed of re- 
suscitation. Fortunately, Arnold’s* trouble was 
exhaustion rather than suffocation, and he was 
breathing naturally if painfully. Pressure re- 
lieved him of a good deal of salt water, and 
after that his eyelids flickered and he sighed heav- 
ily and groaned. And Toby, who, since he had 
first sighted Arnold’s- predicament, had been in a 
condition of anxiety that was just short of panic, 
echoed the sigh. His troubled frown cleared 
away and, hastily covering Arnold with all the 
clothing he could lay hands on, much of it his own 
and Frank’s, he turned quickly to the fly-wheel. 

“Yank up that anchor, Frank,” he said. “We’ll 
beat it for the Head. I guess he’s all right now, 
but he won’t feel much like running races for 
awhile.” He turned the switch on, fixed his throt- 
tle and swung the fly-wheel over, and the Urnove 
247 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


responded with a gasp and a choke and, finally, a 
nice, steady chug, chug-a-chug. With the drip- 
ping anchor inboard, Toby swung the wheel and 
pointed the bow for the Deerings’ landing; a good 
two miles away across the sparkling water. That 
done, he requisitioned his clothing, piece by piece, 
from Arnold and pulled it on his still damp body, 
and Frank, whose teeth were chattering like casta- 
nets, followed his example. A square of sail- 
cloth that Toby used to cover the engine at night 
took the place of their garments. By the time 
they were presentable again Arnold’s cheeks held 
a faint flush of color and he showed symptoms 
of reawakened interest in existence. Finally he 
raised his head from the improvised pillow and 
gazed across at Toby in faint surprise. 

‘‘Hello,” he said. 

“How do you do?” responded the other. 

Arnold considered that for a long moment. 
Then a perplexed frown gathered on his forehead 
and he asked, weakly and irritated: “But — but 
what am I doing here?” 

“You’re lying on your back asking silly ques- 
tions,” answered Toby a trifle gruffly. “Shut up 
and go to sleep.” 

“Don’t you remember what happened?” asked 
Frank. 


248 


A CLOSE CALL 


Arnold scowled deeply and then an expression 
of mingled comprehension and fear came over 
his face, and he started up from the seat. But 
Toby reached across and thrust him back. 

“Don’t do that!” he commanded. “Lie still. 
We’re taking you home.” 

“How — how did I get here?” asked Arnold in 
a low voice. 

“Frank and I pulled you in, of course. How 
do you feel?” 

“All right — I guess.” He seemed to gain re- 
assurance from the feel of the gunwale on which 
one hand was clasped tightly, and the look of 
alarm left his face. “I don’t remember much 
after I called to you fellows,” he said with a shud- 
der. “I thought I was a goner.” 

“What was the trouble?” asked Toby. “Did 
you get tired?” 

“Cramp.” Arnold stretched a leg experiment- 
ally and winced. “It’s pretty nearly gone now. 
It was fierce, though. I couldn’t use my left leg 
at all. And I guess I got frightened. I tried not 
to, but I couldn’t help it. I was trying to get back 
to the launch.” 

“You were headed out to sea when I — when we 
got to you,” said Toby dryly. “Feel strong 
enough to get some clothes on if we help you?” 

249 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Of course. I’m all right now.” To prove it 
he swung his legs from the seat and sat up a trifle 
unsteadily — and was instantly very sick at his 
stomach. But after the nausea had passed the 
color came back to his cheeks and he managed to 
get into his clothes with very little help from 
Frank. “I suppose I’d have drowned if you fel- 
lows hadn’t come along when you did,” he said 
presently. “I guess I was just about all in.” 

“Yes, you were,” agreed Toby. “You had me 
scared good and plenty.” 

“Me, too,” said Frank. “Toby beat me to you 
by a long ways. I swam as hard as I knew how, 
too. He fairly flew through the water. He had 
you alongside the launch here when I came up.” 

“Thanks.” Arnold looked briefly at Toby and 
then gave all his attention to a shoe lace. “I 
don’t know,” he grunted, pulling with unneces- 
sary violence at the lace, “how you thank a fellow 
for — saving your life, but — I guess you fellows 
understand ” 

“Of course you’ll bust the lace if you pull at it 
like that,” said Toby indignantly. “What do you 
think it is ? An anchor cable ?” 

Arnold laughed, relieved. “Anyway, I hope 
I’ll be able to do something for you some 
time ” 


250 


A CLOSE CALL 


“You can do it right now,” interrupted Toby 
gruffly. “You can shut up !” 

“Who won the race?” inquired Arnold, glad to 
change the subject. 

“It was a tie,” answered Toby promptly. 

“Toby did,” said Frank with as little hesita- 
tion. “By about a yard.” 

Toby glanced up in surprise and then turned his 
gaze toward the landing, now but a short distance 
away. “The water was too cold for Frank,” he 
said. “It must have been about forty-four, I 
guess. Too cold for swimming, anyway.” 

“It didn’t seem to trouble you much,” remarked 
Arnold. 

“Oh, I’m used to it. Frank isn’t. Some one 
be ready with the boat-hook. We’re almost in.” 

Arnold patted his damp hair down and drew on 
his cap. “I say, you fellows,” he began awk- 
wardly, “there isn’t any reason for — for mention- 
ing this, I guess. It would only give my aunt hys- 
terics, you know. And dad might feel sort of — 
sort of uneasy, too. There’s no use in troubling 
folks about things they can’t help, is there? See 
what I mean?” 

“We won’t say anything about it,” replied 
Toby, laughing. “It’s bully of you, Arn, not to 
want to worry your folks.” 

251 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


Arnold smiled sheepishly. “Well, you know 
how it is,” he muttered. “Grown folks are aw- 
fully nervous about such things. Dad might for- 
bid me from sailing, you know. And that would 
he the very dickens.” 

“If I were you,” said Frank, with a return to 
his pompous manner once more, “I’d stay out of 
the water unless it was pretty warm. I guess if a 
fellow has cramps once he might have them any 
time. I’d be afraid to take chances if I were 
you.” 

“I never had a cramp before in my life,” re- 
sponded Arnold. “And I’ve been in water colder 
than that, too. What I did, I guess, was get cold 
watching you fellows race to the landing. Any- 
way, I’ll be mighty careful the rest of the summer, 
you can bet! Pass me that boat-hook, Frank.” 

Toby watched Arnold and Frank disappear up 
the bluff and then chugged his way thoughtfully 
back to the town landing. Now that it was over, 
he found that the morning’s misadventure had 
left him feeling a little bit like a rag. He had 
swum very nearly a half-mile at top speed, al- 
though, to be sure, a brief rest had halved the per- 
formance, and that was no slight task for a boy 
of his years. But the result of the exertion had 
told on him less, perhaps, than those minutes of 
252 


A CLOSE CALL 


fear and anxiety when, plunging from the light- 
house landing, he had raced to Arnold’s rescue. 
He didn’t feel the least bit in the world like mak- 
ing that eleven o’clock trip to Johnstown. 

When he had tied up at the landing he had still 
more than fifteen minutes to wait, and, after a ref- 
erence to the contents of his pocket and a minute 
of consideration, he climbed the lane and made 
his way to a little lunch room nearby. There, 
seated on a high stool at the counter, he consumed 
a large piece of apple pie and drank a cup of hot 
coffee. Pie and coffee as a remedy for physical 
and nervous exhaustion may sound queer, but they 
did the trick in Toby’s case, for he went whistling 
back to the launch and a few minutes later ferried 
two passengers across the bay in the best of spirits. 

Two days later Arnold came over from the 
Head in the morning wearing an expression that 
informed Toby that something of moment had oc- 
curred. He looked at once subdued and import- 
ant. When they were in the launch he asked: “I 
suppose you didn’t say anything to any one, did 
you, Toby?” 

“About what?” asked the other. 

“About my trying to drown myself the other 
day.” 

“No, I didn’t. Why?” 

253 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Well, some one must have. Dad found out 
about it.” 

“Gee! Did he? What did he say?” 

“Not much. I mean — oh, he read me a lecture, 
of course. Said I was old enough to know better 
than to do such things. I thought maybe you’d 
told Phebe.” 

“I didn’t. Even if I had, though, no one else 
would have heard. Phebe’s a wonder at keeping 
a secret. She’s almost like a boy. If you tell her 
not to tell you can’t drag it out of her!” 

“Then it must have been Frank,” said Arnold, 
“but he swears he hasn’t opened his mouth about 
it.” 

“Maybe some one saw us from the Head. 
They might have, you know. With a pair of 
glasses ” 

“There weren’t any boats around, were there?” 

“Nowhere near. Did your father tell you not 
to sail the Ay dee any more?” 

“No, but I was scared he was going to. He 
said I must not go in the water again this summer, 
though.” 

“Well, you should worry,” laughed Toby. 
“Who wants to bathe much now, anyway?” 

“Aunt was the worst,” said Arnold. “She got 
all worked up about it and I was afraid she’d 

254 



He consumed a large piece of apple pie 




A CLOSE CALL 


make dad forbid my sailing any more. It’s funny 
how he found out.” 

“Frank might have told some one in confi- 
dence,” Toby suggested. “Still, if he says he 
didn’t ” 

“I don’t believe he did.” Arnold stepped out 
and held the launch to the float while Toby found 
the line. “He wants to see you, Toby.” 

“Frank? What for?” 

“No, dad. He said I was to ask you to come 
over this evening. I guess he wants to thank you 
for pulling me out of the water. I’m sorry,” he 
added apologetically. 

“You can tell him you forgot to give me the 
message,” said Toby with a laugh. 

“What doing?” 

“Oh, lots of things. I ought to study, I guess.” 

Arnold grinned. “That’s sort of sudden, isn’t 
it? I haven’t heard you mention studying all sum- 
mer. You’d better come and have it over with. 
He will just insist on doing it, Toby. Dad al- 
ways does what he makes up his mind to do. He’s 
like you that way. Besides, I wouldn’t want to 
tell him I’d forgotten to tell you.” 

“I don’t want any thanks,” grumbled Toby. 
“I didn’t do anything to make a fuss over. Gee, 
I almost wish I’d left you there !” 

255 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Pm sorry,” said Arnold again, “but you know 
the way fathers and relatives are. They think 
they have to make a speech about such things. It’s 
a beastly bore, I know, but I rather wish you’d 
come, Toby.” 

“Oh, all right. I suppose I’ll have to. But 
the next time you try to drown yourself you’ll 
have to find some one else to pull you out!” 

The ordeal wasn’t very bad, however, after all. 
Mr. Deering was very earnest, and shook hands 
with Toby twice and patted him once on the back, 
but he evidently appreciated the fact that the boy 
was unhappily embarrassed and so made his ex- 
pression of gratitude mercifully brief. But later, 
when Toby was toasting his shins in front of the 
library fire, he traitorously returned to the subject 
in a roundabout way. 

“Toby,” he said, “Arnold tells me you are go- 
ing to Yardley Hall School this fall.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“That’s fine. It will be nice for Arnold, too. 
You boys will have a very jolly time there, I’ll 
wager. Neither of you should forget, though, 
that having a good time isn’t the sole reason for 
being there. Last year Arnold rather — ah — 
rather neglected work, I fear. You must set him 
a good example of diligence, Toby.” 

256 


A CLOSE CALL 


“I studied a lot more than I needed to,” said 
Arnold defensively. u Gee, you ought to see how 
some of the fellows loaf!” 

“Well, perhaps you didn’t do so badly, son. I 
wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself studying.” He 
winked gravely at Toby. “Any time you feel 
brain-fever coming on you’d better let up awhile, 
eh? Now, Toby, what I started out to say is this: 
Arnold says you haven’t really got enough money 
to take you through the school year. How about 
that?” 

“No, sir, not quite enough, but I guess I’ll make 
it somehow. I don’t have to pay it all at once, 
sir.” 

“Still, you’d feel easier in your mind, I sup- 
pose, if you had it all in sight. It would give me a 
great deal of pleasure, my boy, if you would let 
me help you just a little. I don’t want you to con- 
sider that I am paying you for saving my son’s 
life. I couldn’t put a valuation on that, anyway. 
What happened two days ago doesn’t enter into 
this little affair, except that, naturally, it has made 
me feel a good deal more — more kindly toward 
you, Toby. To be quite frank, it’s probable that 
the idea of investing a small sum in your education 
wouldn’t have occurred to me if you hadn’t made 
a draft on my gratitude. But I’d rather you 
257 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


viewed my contribution as merely a token of ad- 
miration and — ah — affection. Now how much 
money do you lack, Toby?” 

“Why — why, I figure that I’ll be shy about 
forty-five dollars, sir, but ” 

“Is that all? But surely, you’ll need more than 
that! Well, never mind. I’m going to hand you 
a check for two hundred, Toby. That ought to 
provide for everything, eh?” 

“Yes, sir, it would,” answered Toby, shuffling 
his feet on the thick rug and staring hard at the 
fire. “But — but I’d rather not, Mr. Deering. 
I’m awfully much obliged to you, sir, but I guess 
I won’t.” 

“What? But why not? Now don’t be proud, 
my boy. This isn’t charity I’m offering. I — 
look here, then. We’ll make it a loan. How’s 
that?” 

Toby shook his head, smiling a little. “It 
wouldn’t be a loan, sir, because I wouldn’t ever 
be able to pay it back, I guess. Anyway, not for 
years. I don’t want you to think I ain’t — am not 
— appreciating it, sir, but I’ll come out all right. 
I’ve got almost enough now, and I can make the 
rest before I need it. I’m awfully much ob- 
liged ” 

“Oh, go on, Toby!” begged Arnold. “Take it, 
258 


A CLOSE CALL 


won’t you? Dad’s got lots of money. He won’t 
mind if you don’t pay him back for a long, long 
time, will you, Dad? But I don’t see why he 
need ever pay it back, do you?” 

‘‘But I don’t need it, you see,” protested Toby, 
embarrassed. “I — I’d so much rather not take 
it, Arn ! I would really I” 

“Oh, shucks! There’s no sense in being so 
touchy!” 

“I’m not touchy, Arn. I — I guess I can’t just 
explain how I feel about it. If — if there was real 
need of the money ” 

“All right, Toby,” said Mr. Deering, coming 
to his rescue. “You know best, perhaps. There’s 
no doubt that money you earn yourself goes a lot 
farther than money that’s come by easily. But 
just remember that if you ever need it it’s here 
waiting for you, and it’s yours as a loan or a gift 
as you please. That will do, Arnold. Toby is 
quite right about it. We won’t say any more.” 
Mr. Deering, who had arisen from his armchair 
a minute before, stepped forward and shook 
Toby’s hand again. “I’ve got some letters to 
write, and so I’ll say good-night to you. And 
good luck, too, Toby.” 

Later, on the landing, Toby asked: “Did you 
find out how your father knew about it, Arn?” 

259 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Yes, the lighthouse keeper saw it and he told 
the man who brings us fish. And he told the cook 
and ” 

“Well, that lets Frank out, doesn’t it? I’m sort 
of glad. He — he was pretty decent the other day, 
Frank was. About owning up that I beat him, 
you know. And say, Arn, I guess he can swim as 
fast as he said. I know I never had to work so 
hard before in my life !” 


CHAPTER XXI 


THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 

O NE Sunday morning, a few days later, 
Toby, dressed for church, sauntered 
across the road and, skirting the boat 
shed, went on down to the wharf where the 
JJrnove lay snuggled against the spiles. It 
was a sparkling-blue morning with a percep- 
tible tinge of autumn in the crisp air, and from 
the end of the stone pier he could see quite plainly 
the shore for miles to the northward. But he 
didn’t look abroad very long, for a sound below 
caused him to drop his eyes to the boat. In the 
stern, leaning over with his gaze seemingly intent 
on the muddy bottom of the shallow cove, puffing 
lazily at his old briar pipe, sat Long Tim. 

Long Tim was attired in his Sunday best, which 
included a very high collar — which he called a 
“choker” — and a flaming red tie. Also, Sunday 
meant a pair of shiny and extremely tight boots 
to Long Tim, boots which, as Toby well knew, 
squeaked remonstrance all the way down the 
church aisle. Long Tim was so intent on his task 
261 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


of apparently studying the water that he had no 
knowledge of Toby’s presence until a chip struck 
lightly on the brim of his carefully brushed, but 
ancient derby. Then he looked up slowly and 
winked. 

“What are you looking for?” asked Toby. 

Long Tim shifted his position, felt solicitously 
of one boot and smiled. “Money,” he answered. 

“Money? In the water?” 

“Well, I’ll tell you, Toby. I calculate it looks 
funny to you, because you wouldn’t ordinarily ex- 
pect to find money floating around in this cove, 
now would you?” 

“I never have,” replied the boy. 

“Well, now I have.” Long Tim watched for 
Toby’s expression of surprise and then went on 
with a chuckle. “Yes, sir, ’long about two months 
ago, or maybe a little more, I was standin’ just 
about where you be now, and I looked down in 
the water and see something green a-floatin’ round. 
Well, sir, it looked mighty like a piece o’ money; 
paper, o’ course. Says I, ‘It can’t be an’ so it 
t’aint, but if it is you might as well have it as the 
fishes.’ So I reached me a pole and pulled it out. 
And what do you suppose it was?” 

“A two-dollar bill,” said Toby rather faintly. 

Long Tim nodded. “Ezactly, though I don’t 
262 


THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 


know how you guessed at the de-nom-ination o’ 
it. Yes, sir, a nice, new two-dollar bill. Queer, 
wa’n’t it? So since then I sometimes comes down 
and takes a look. If there’s one two-dollar bill 
a-floatin’ around this here cove, like enough there’s 
another, and like enough some day I’ll find itl 
Anyway, it ain’t what you’d call hard work, now, 
is it?” 

To Long Tim’s surprise, Toby burst into laugh- 
ter. His first impulse to claim the money for Ar- 
nold lasted only a second. It would be a great 
pity to spoil Long Tim’s romance for the sake of 
two dollars ! But the funny side of it struck him 
forcibly. Neither he nor Arnold had thought to 
look for the lost bill. They had both taken it for 
granted that it had sunk, whereas, had they rea- 
soned a little, they would have known that a piece 
of paper would float until saturated with water. 
They had really deserved to lose it! 

‘‘I calculate you don’t believe it,” said Long 
Tim mildly. 

“Oh, yes, I do,” answered Toby, conquering 
his laughter. 

“Oh ! Then what was you laughin’ at, may I 
ask?” 

“J us t_just something I remembered,” chuckled 
Toby. “I — I hope you find some more, Tim!” 

263 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Well, I ain’t yet, but there’s no tellin’ when 
I will. I’m sort of hopin’ that the next time it’ll 
be a five or a ten. I calculate there ain’t no law 
limitin’ the de-nom-ination of flotsam money!” 

When Toby told Arnold about Long Tim’s find, 
later in the day, Arnold was as much amused as 
Toby had been. “Say,” he gasped, “wouldn’t it 
be funny to drop a dollar over the side of the 
wharf some day when he was looking? Wouldn’t 
he be surprised?” 

“I guess he would,” Tony agreed, “but I guess 
it would be pretty funny. When do you want to 
do it?” 

Arnold sobered. “Huh,” he answered, “I guess 
it wouldn’t be so funny after all ! Dollars are sort 
of scarce these days.” 

The last fortnight of vacation time fairly rushed 
by. All sorts of things which they had planned 
to do and had never done arose to haunt them, 
and they made heroic efforts to bring them to pass 
with but scant success. Toby’s ferry business, 
which had begun to dwindle perceptibly, kept him 
busy so much of the time that there was little op- 
portunity for large adventures. The Deerings 
were to return to the city on the twelfth of Sep- 
tember, about a week before Arnold’s school be- 
gan, and that date was drawing perilously near. 

264 


THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 


Already Toby experienced qualms of loneliness 
when Arnold was not with him, and he hated to 
think what it would be like when the other had 
actually departed from Greenhaven. Of course, 
if all went well they would meet again at Yardley 
Hall the last of the month, but there were times 
when Toby feared that that radiant dream would 
never come true. So many things might happen 
in a fortnight or three weeks ! Suppose that bank 
where his money was should be robbed! One was 
always reading of such things! Frequently Toby 
wished he had spurned the slight interest offered 
by the trust company and hoarded his wealth in the 
bottom of the old sea-chest in his room. Toward 
the last he feared to look in the newspaper lest he 
read that robbers had blown up the safe of the 
bank or that a dishonest official had decamped for 
South America or some such inaccessible place with 
his savings ! 

The two boys managed to see a trifle more than 
ever of each other during those last two weeks, 
and that’s saying a good deal. Arnold seldom 
lunched at home, preferring to have dinner at 
Toby’s, since the trip back and forth to the Head 
ate up a lot of time which could be used to better 
advantage. Their conversations nowadays dwelt 
largely with Yardley Hall School and with the 
2 65 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


wonderful things they were to do there. They 
never tired of those subjects. Generally Phebe 
shared the confidences, saying little, but, like Mr. 
Murphy, speaking to the point when moved to 
speech. Once when the two boys, seated on the 
stone steps in front of the cottage between ferry 
trips, had expatiated long and enthusiastically on 
the fun that awaited them at Yardley Hall, Phebe 
observed wisely: 

“You mustn’t forget, Toby, what father said 
about getting your money’s worth at school. It 
will be nice to have such a good time, but you 
ought to learn a great deal, I think, because you’re 
going to pay a great deal of money, aren’t you?” 

“Oh, he’ll learn,” said Arnold carelessly. But 
Toby was silent a moment. Then he said soberly : 

“You’re right, sis. It won’t do to think too 
much about play. A fellow ought to get his 
money’s worth, whatever he goes into. And I in- 
tend to. You wait and see if I don’t, sis.” 

“I think you will,” she answered, smiling. 
“Folks who waste money are very silly, and you’re 
not silly, Toby.” 

“I’ll see that he doesn’t, Phebe,” Arnold as- 
sured her gravely. 

“I’m afraid you don’t know much about it,” 
laughed the girl. 


266 


THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 


“Arn doesn’t know what a dollar is,” said Toby. 

“Oh, don’t I? You throw one down there on 
the grass and I’ll show you !” 

“Well, you don’t know the value of a dollar, 
then. You’ve always had all you wanted 
and ” 

“Oh, that’s so, I suppose,” Arnold granted. “I 
guess I have wasted a good deal of perfectly good 
money on silly things, Toby, but I’m getting onto 
myself now. What you say about getting the 
worth of your money is just about right. After 
this I’m going to, too. You keep your eye on your 
Uncle Dudley. Some of the fellows at school 
think it’s smart to throw money away, but I guess 
it’s just silly, like Phebe says. Gee, if I know you 
much longer I’ll be as wise as — as Solomon — or 
Mr. Murphy 1” 

The Frolic was hauled out one morning and set 
up on a cradle in the boat yard and nicely can- 
vassed over for the winter, and that ceremony 
somehow seemed to bring the summer to an of- 
ficial close even though three days still intervened 
before Arnold’s departure. The Aydee was to 
remain in commission until the last, for Arnold 
couldn’t bear to give her up. Frequently he sailed 
across to Johnstown in the knockabout when Toby 
made the trip in the launch, but toward the last 
267 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

he abandoned the yacht and joined his chum in the 
Urnove. 

Arnold was to leave for the city on Thursday, 
and on Tuesday he attached himself to Toby early 
in the morning and remained at his side all the day. 
It was when they were on their way across to 
Johnstown at four o’clock, minus passengers this 
trip, that he became reminiscent. “Funny about 
us, isn’t it, Toby?” he began, smiling across at the 
other as the boat dipped and rocked in a choppy 
sea. It had been cloudy and squally all day, and 
within the last half-hour the wind had been stead- 
ily rising. Toby had questioned the advisability 
of that last trip but Arnold had laughed at his 
temerity. 

“How do you mean?” asked Toby, leaving the 
engine and seating himself beside the other. 

“Oh, the way we happened to meet, you know, 
and all. If I hadn’t gone over for gasoline that 
morning just when I did we wouldn’t have had 
the row and got acquainted.” 

“And lost that money,” added Toby, grinning. 
“We might have run across each other some other 
time, though, I guess.” 

Arnold shook his head. “I don’t believe so. I 
guess it was — was fated! Well, say, we’ve had a 
dandy time, haven’t we ? And we’re going to have 
268 


THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 


lots more. Say, honest, Toby, if you weren’t com- 
ing to Yardley I’d — I’d hate like anything to go 
back!” 

“Uh-huh,” responded Toby, glancing away. 
“So would I. I mean ” 

Arnold laughed. “I know! It’s jolly having 
a real chum!” 

Toby only nodded, but Arnold seemed satisfied, 
and by actual consent the subject was abandoned. 

Fortunately for them, they had donned the oil- 
skins before starting across, for the spray was 
showering in at every dip of the boat’s bow and 
things were getting pretty moist. Now and then, 
as she quartered the waves, the Urnove playfully 
put her nose under one and deposited a good share 
of it inside. By the time they had covered half 
the distance the well was full and the water was 
splashing up between the gratings. 

“We’ll have to bail her out before we come 
back,” said Arnold. 

“Yes, and I guess we’d better come back pretty 
quick,” was the reply. “I don’t like the weather 
much. This wind’s swinging around into the 
southeast and there’ll be quite a sea before long.” 

“It won’t bother this little boat,” laughed Ar- 
nold. “And I guess we don’t mind getting wet, 
do we?” 


269 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“I don’t if you don’t. Just the same, I guess 
we’ll beat it back without waiting until half-past.” 

“There’s a launch over there,” said Arnold, 
peering under his hand to keep the spray from his 
eyes, “that seems to be making hard weather of it. 
Look at the way she’s tossing ! She’s a big one, 
too, isn’t she? A trunk-cabin boat. What’s the 
signal she’s flying, Toby?” 

“I can’t see. Looks to me as though she were 
anchored. Queer place to drop her mud-hook, 
though. Look out for this sea, Arn! It’s com- 
ing in !” 

It did come in and with a vengeance, and al- 
though they ducked their heads to it it managed 
to get down their necks and up their sleeves and 
left them drenched and laughing. They forgot 
the cabin cruiser then and brought the Urnove’ s 
head around a bit and scuttled for the landing. 
The wind was whistling loudly by that time and a 
sullen wrack of clouds was scudding fast over- 
head. They made the lee side of the little land- 
ing and found themselves partly out of the wind 
and in fairly calm water. They dried their fac£s 
as best they could with their handkerchiefs and 
then set about bailing the water from the bottom 
of the launch. By the time they had finished it 
was so nearly the half-hour that Toby felt no hesi- 
270 


THE DISTRESS SIGNAL 


tancy in starting back. No one was in sight on 
the road to the landing and so, starting the en- 
gine again and casting off, they slipped out of their 
haven and faced the elements once more. At the 
worst, as Toby said, there was no danger, but they 
could ship a good deal of water and get pretty 
wet, and since the motor was exposed the water 
frequently caused a short-circuit and slowed down 
the engine. To obviate those drawbacks, they 
headed the launch out so that she took the seas 
on her port bow, meaning to presently swing 
around and run before them. That the latter in- 
tention was not carried out was due to the fact that 
their first course took them in the direction of the 
big cruising launch which they had noticed on the 
way over, and that Toby, discerning something 
queer in the way in which she tumbled and wal- 
lowed about, looked more closely and gave vent 
to a grunt of surprise. 

“She’s not anchored at all,” he shouted across 
to Arnold. “She’s drifting side-on. And — 
hello!” 

“What?” asked the other. 

“What do you make of those pennants she’s 
flying?” 

Arnold, crouching at the side wheel, screened 
his eyes and gazed at the bits of colored bunting 
271 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


flapping from the little signal mast. “One’s white 
and the other’s — the other’s blue-and-white, isn’t 
it?” 

“Yes, that’s J. But can you see if the white 
pennant’s got a red disk?” 

“I think so. Yes, it has ! What’s it mean?” 

“C. J. ; disabled and need assistance,” answered 
Toby. “Run over, and see what’s up. Engine’s 
broken down, I suspect. There’s some one wav- 
ing to us.” 

The Urnove turned her length to the seas and, 
rocking and pitching, headed for the launch in dis- 
tress. 


CHAPTER XXII 


INTO PORT 


S they drew closer to the other boat 



the boys saw that she was a fine big 


^ cruiser with a lot of beam and a 

length of probably forty feet. Her cabin ex- 
tended almost the length of the hull and in 
the small cockpit at the stern two men were to 
be seen. One was apparently engaged in some 
task that hid all but his head and shoulders, and 
the other, clinging to a railing, held a megaphone 
to his mouth as the Urnove came up to leeward. 

“We’ve broken our shaft,’’ came the voice 
across the water. “Can you give us a tow?” 

“Yes,” called Toby in answer, “if you’ve got 
a line that’ll hold. I’ll come about and run in close 
to you. Have your line ready.” 

The other waved his megaphone in assent and 
the Urnove , plunging past, made a wide turn and 
once more approached. “Stand by with the boat- 
hook, Arn,” said Toby, “in case we don’t catch 
it. Don’t fall overboard, though! Ready, now!” 

The little launch again drew close to the cruiser, 


273 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


Toby steering her to the leeward and as near as 
he dared venture. The second occupant of the big 
boat had given up his task and was bracing him- 
self in the cockpit with a coil of rope in his hands. 

“Heave it!” called Toby. 

The coil shot across the few yards of water 
straight for the Urnove’s bow, but the wind seized 
and deflected it and, although Arnold did his best 
with the boat-hook, they missed it. 

Coming around again was wet business, and 
plugging back in the teeth of the wind and water 
was none too easy. Those on the cruiser were 
ready for another attempt and as the Urtiove 
plunged slowly past the coil was again thrown and 
this time Arnold got it and in a moment had made 
it fast to the stern cleat. On the other boat — the 
name on the bow was Sinbad — one of the crew 
crept forward along the heaving, slippery deck 
and secured the cable at the bow. Meanwhile the 
second occupant of the boat was speaking through 
cupped hands. 

“Much obliged, you fellows! Can you make 
Cutchogue Harbor?” 

“No,” called Toby. “We’ll tow you to Johns- 
town, over there, or into Greenhaven. Which do 
you say?” 

“That won’t do, thanks. We’ve got to get to 
274 


INTO PORT 


Cutchogue. This boat’ll tow easily,” insisted the 
man. “Name your own price, like a good fellow. 
It’s mighty important that we get to Cutchogue. 
Come on now! Can’t you do it for us? Any fig- 
ure you say and we’ll pay you the minute we get 
there !” 

Toby, keeping the U move's bows to the sea, re- 
flected a moment. Then he turned questioningly 
to Arnold. 

“What do you say?” he asked. 

“Let’s try it!” said Arnold eagerly. “It’ll be 
a lark!” 

“If we don’t founder doing it,” replied Toby 
grimly. “All right. I’m game.” He shouted 
across to the cruiser then. “Glad to take you to 
Greenhaven or anywhere down here for nothing,” 
he called. “But if you want to go to Cutchogue 
I’ll have to charge you something. I won’t 
promise to get you there, either, but I’ll do my 
best.” 

“Good boy!” was the response. “What’s your 
figure?” 

Toby turned quickly to Arnold. “What’s 
twenty-five from seventy?” he demanded. 

“What?” gasped Arnold blankly. 

But Toby had solved the problem himself. 
“Forty-five dollars,” he shouted. 

275 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“Go to it, feller!” The man waved his hand 
gayly. “You’re a sportsman!” 

“All right,” answered Toby. “Give me plenty 
of cable. Here goes 1” 

Toby speeded up the engine, the cable tightened, 
the Urnove’s propeller thrashed and churned as 
the weight of the bigger boat was felt, and for a 
moment, while the stout rope strained and dripped 
water, the outcome appeared in doubt. Then, 
however, the Sinbad’s bow swung slowly around, 
the line slackened a little, tautened again and the 
JJrnove , with her engine chugging madly and the 
waves tossing her about, moved ahead. 

Once under way, Toby slowed the engine down 
and headed straight into the seas. With that 
load astern the little launch shipped water at every 
plunge and Toby knew that his safest course was 
to make dead into the weather until he had reached 
the lee of Robins Island. There he could run 
northwest and, once around the end of the island, 
find smoother seas off New Suffolk where Nassau 
Point would break the force of wind and tide. But 
it was a good five miles to the southernmost end 
of the island and his course took him down the 
very middle of the bay. There was no longer any 
question of keeping dry, for the spray flew over 
the bows at every dip and now and then a full- 
276 


INTO PORT 


sized wave rushed in, cascading over tHe seat and 
running astern to where Arnold was busy, bailer 
in hand. Toby steered with the starboard wheel, 
where he had the engine within arm’s reach, but 
steering the Urnove with tons of weight holding 
her stern down was a different matter from steer- 
ing her under ordinary conditions, and Toby had 
his hands full. Behind them, at the end of the 
dipping line, came the Sinbad, swaying and plung- 
ing about, and looking, tfi the fast-gathering dusk, 
like some wounded and helpless sea-monster. Ar- 
nold, abandoning his bailer for a moment, crept 
forward to Toby’s side. 

“What are we making?” he asked. 

Toby looked back at the running water. 
“About four miles, I guess,” he answered. 

“It’ll take us two hours, then. How about 
lights?” 

“Better try, Arn. Maybe if you squeeze down 
and get your match inside the locker you can do 
it. If you can’t we’ll just have to risk it. They’ll 
light up on the cruiser pretty quick, I guess. Got 
matches?” 

Arnold nodded and set about his task. Lying 
flat on the wet flooring, lantern and matches held 
under a seat locker, he finally met with success. 
Darkness came early that September evening, and 
277 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 

long before the lights on Robins Island appeared 
ahead the Sinbad was lost to sight save for her 
lanterns. Arnold, too, had to fight, for water en- 
tered the Urnove not only over the gunwale but 
up through opening seams in her hull, and from 
the time darkness fell and the distant lights on 
shore twinkled through the night he had to bail 
incessantly to keep the water from gaining. Both 
boys were wet to their skins now and the search- 
ing wind, straight from the northeast, set them 
shivering. Arnold envied the occupants of the 
Sinbad , who, at least, had the protection of their 
cabin. He and Toby swapped jobs after awhile, 
Arnold taking the wheel and Toby the wooden 
bailer. They set the roughest seas about a half- 
hour after their start, by which time the bay had 
widened out and the wind, sweeping wildly down 
from Little Peconic, tumbled the water into a sea 
that might have daunted the skipper of a larger 
craft than the tiny Urnove . More than once, if 
truth is told, Arnold’s heart scampered up into his 
throat as some more than ordinarily ugly wave 
smashed at the launch, lifted it sickeningly, drop- 
ped it with a contemptuous bang and rushed madly 
astern. He was secretly relieved when darkness 
settled down. Probably conditions were just as 
bad, but they were hidden from sight. 

278 


INTO PORT 


It was about six o’clock when Toby’s longing 
gaze was rewarded by the flicker of a distant light 
which told him that they were drawing near to 
Robins Island. A few minutes later there was a 
barely perceptible decrease in the pitching of the 
launch and the wind blew with less force. Toby 
ran on until within what he believed to be a quar- 
ter of a mile from the shore and then swung the 
JJrnove to port and, in calmer water now, ran to- 
ward the northern end of the island. Presently 
Arnold, who had gone back to bailing at the ap- 
proach to land, shouted from the stern. 

“Lights, Tobyl Is that Cutchogue?” 

“New Suffolk. Cutchogue’s beyond.” 

“How much further is it?” 

“The harbor’s about a mile around this point. 
I’m swinging around now.” 

“Hooray!” yelled Arnold. “Oh, you harbor 1” 

Nassau Point, which stretches far into Little Pe- 
conic Bay beyond the harbor south, broke the force 
of wind and tide and after they left the lights along 
the water-front at New Suffolk behind they had 
smooth sailing. They towed the Sinbad well up 
into the harbor and at last Toby took the mega- 
phone and hailed the cruiser. 

“All right here?” he asked. “I don’t know this 
place very well.” 

279 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“All right, thanks,” came the answer. “Cast 
off when you’re ready.” 

Simultaneously the boys heard the splash of the 
Sinbad’s anchor. Toby threw off the line from the 
stern and, picking his way carefully, swung around 
and approached the anchored boat. 

“Pass us a line,” called one of the men, “and 
come aboard, boys.” 

A moment later, murmuring apologies for their 
dripping clothes and blinking at the light, they step- 
ped down into the snug cabin. 

“Throw your oil-skins off and get warmed up,” 
instructed one of their hosts. “I’d offer you some 
dry things if I had them. We’ll have some hot 
coffee ready in a shake, and that’ll do you a lot 
of good, I guess.” 

Toby viewed the magnificence of that cabin 
with awed interest, but Arnold was gazing at the 
younger of the two men before them. He was 
not more than twenty-one, it appeared, while his 
companion was probably three years older. Both 
were fine, gentlemanly looking chaps in spite of 
their old sweaters and khaki trousers and gener- 
ally dilapidated appearance. The older one was 
already busying himself at the little stove up for- 
ward, but it was he who took up the tale again. 

“We’re awfully grateful to you chaps,” he said 
280 


INTO PORT 


earnestly. “And you did a mighty plucky stunt. 
Frankly, I didn’t believe we’d get here. We broke 
our propeller shaft about three o’clock and drifted 
all the way down from Franklinville to where you 
found us. We thought for a while we’d be able 
to collar around the break and limp home, but it 
was no go. I dare say you thought we were a bit 
fussy in insisting on getting up here, but the fact 
is we’ve got to light out the first thing in the morn- 
ing and there’s a chap we know who’ll tinker us 
up tonight. You fellows won’t want to go back, 
I guess, until the traveling’s better. We can bunk 
you down here just as well as not.’’ 

“I guess we’d better go home, thanks,” said 
Toby. “Our folks don’t know where we are, you 
see.” 

“Flow about telephoning from the village?” 
asked the other man. “You live in Greenhaven, 
don’t you?” 

“I do,” replied Toby. “Deering lives on Span- 
ish Head. I guess we’d better go back. It won’t 
be bad with the wind astern.” 

“Well, you’re a plucky pair,” replied the other 
admiringly. “I wouldn’t make that trip again : 
that boat of yours for a lot of money. That 
minds me, by the way.” He went to a locb 
brought forth a purse. “We’d better settle 
281 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


we think of it. There’s one thing, though, I would 
like to know,*’ he went on, smiling at Toby as he 
counted out the money. “Why did you ask forty- 
five dollars instead of fifty? Just how did you ar- 
rive at that figure? It’s puzzled me ever since.” 

Toby hesitated. Then: “I needed forty-five, 
sir, and I thought it wouldn’t be too much to ask.” 

“It wasn’t! Not a cent! All right. Here you 
are then, but I’d just as leave make it fifty — er — 
what’s your name, by the way?” 

“Mine’s Tucker, and his is Deering.” 

“Good names, both. My friend’s name there is 
Loring, and mine ” 

“Is Pennimore,” supplied Arnold. 

“Yes, but how did you know?” asked the other 
in surprise. 

“I’ve seen you a good many times, sir, around 
Yardley.” 

“Oh, you’re a Yardley Hall fellow, eh? Well 
met, Deering! So am I. That is, I used to be. 
Loring’s another. Funny to meet you chaps like 
this. Hear that, Alf? These fellows are Yard- 
ley chaps! Or one of them is. How about you, 
Tucker?” 

“I’m entering this year, sir.” 

Good stuff! Now listen, you fellows. You 
v where I live, Deering. Come and see me 
282 


INTO PORT 


when you get there. I’ll be back pretty nearly 
as soon as you are. Bring Tucker with you. 
Don’t forget, eh?” 

“No, thanks, I’ll be glad to,” said Arnold. 
“Is — is Mr. Loring the one who used to play 
quarterback on the team?” 

“I am,” laughed Mr. Loring. “Don’t tell me 
that my fame still survives, Deering!” 

“Yes, sir. Besides, I’ve seen your picture in the 
gym lots of times.” 

“And you’ve been gone— how long is it, Alf? 
Six years, eh? That’s fame as is fame!” 

“Shut up,” replied the other, laughing, “and 
drink this. Find another cup, Gerald, will you? 
Sorry we can’t offer you anything better than 
canned cow, fellows. Dig into those biscuits, will 
you? If you’re half as hungry as I am, you’re 
starved! I wish to goodness we had some dry 
clothes for you. Look here, why not get those 
things off and wrap a couple of blankets around 
you? There are towels in there and you can rub 
yourselves dry, you know. Great scheme ! Why 
didn’t you think of that, Gerald? What good are 
you, anyway, in a crisis?” 

“I don’t mind wet clothes,” answered Toby. 
“And it wouldn’t be much good to get dry and 
then put our clothes on again.” 

283 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


“All right, but pull this blanket around you until 
you get ready to start back. It’ll keep you warm 
meanwhile. Have some more sugar, Deering?” 

In spite of their wet garments that was a very 
jolly half-hour that the two boys spent in the cabin 
of the Sinbad. They each had two cups of really 
excellent coffee and as many biscuits as they could 
eat. And they had a fine time talking about Yard- 
ley Hall, and listening to the reminiscences of 
their hosts. They learned that the Sinbad be- 
longed to Mr. Loring and that the two had spent 
a month cruising along the coast from Maine to 
Long Island without a mishap until that after- 
noon. It was nearly nine when they donned their 
oilskins again and climbed back into the Urnove. 
The Sinbad’ s crew once more expressed their grat- 
itude, shook hands and wished them a safe voy- 
age, Mr. Pennimore reminding them that they 
were to come and see him when they got to Yard- 
ley. Then the Urnove chugged off again in the 
darkness, picking her way between anchored craft, 
and the lights on the cruiser dwindled away astern. 

Arnold found plenty of bailing to do for awhile, 
but it didn’t keep him from talking a streak until 
they were out of the protection of the land and 
the wind drowned his voice. The return trip was 
far less strenuous. Free of her tow, the little 
284 


INTO PORT 


launch held her head well out of water and, since 
the sea was following instead of charging at their 
bow, they kept fairly dry. It was well short of 
ten when, at last, the launch reached the smoother 
water of Greenhaven Harbor and still lacked five 
minutes of the hour when, tired and wet but happy, 
they entered Toby’s house to the great relief of 
his folks. Arnold had stopped at the drug store 
and telephoned to the Head and before they had 
ended their story of the rescue of the Sinbad the 
automobile was waiting to whisk him home. Toby 
went to the car with him and after Arnold had 
said good-night and was moving off he called to 
the driver. 

“Wait a minute, Peter 1 I say, Toby, why did 
you ask him forty-five dollars instead of fifty? I 
didn’t get that any more than he did T* 

“Why, because I was shy seventy dollars of 
enough to go to school,” answered Toby calmly. 
“Dad promised me twenty-five, you know, and 
that left forty-five. Now I’ve got enough. Good- 
night 1” 

Two days later Toby and Phebe stood on the 
station platform at Riverport saying good-by to 
Arnold. Arnold’s father had left for New York 
earlier in the day in the automobile, Arnold’s aunt 
was safely ensconced in the parlor car and Arnold 
285 


KEEPING HIS COURSE 


himself was waving from the last platform as the 
bell clanged and the train slowly moved away. 

“Good-by, Phebe! I’ve had a fine old time! 
Say good-by to your father and mother again for 
me. Good-by, Toby, old scout! See you in a 
week or so. Don’t forget to write.” Arnold had 
to shout now at the top of his lungs. “And don’t 
— forget — to come!” 

“I’ll be there !” called Toby. “I’ll be there if 
I have to walk I” 


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